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Joy, joy forever ! my task is doue." 

Page 138. 



/l^ 



LALLA ROOKH 



AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE 



BY 

THOMAS MOORE 



A NEW EDITION 
REVISED BY THE AUTHOR, WITH PREFACE AND NOTES 



Ellustrateti bu 

CORBOULD, ST. JOHN HARPER, and STEPHANOFF 



NEW YORK 




THOMAS Y. CRO\VELL & CO. 

i^ AsTOR Place 



SH^'i- 






Copyright, 
By T. Y. Crowell & Co, 



/^-3,^^r' 



TO 

SAMUEL ROGERS, Esq., 

2Ef)is lEastcrn Eomancc 

IS INSCRIBED 
BY HIS VERY GRATEFUL AXD AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 

THOMAS MOORE. 
May 19, 1817. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Preface 7 

The Veiled Pkophet of Kiiokassan 27 

Paradise and the Peki ll'> 

The Fire- Worshippers 14'.) 

The Light of the Haram 24(? 



PREFACE. 



The Poem, or Romance, of Lall\ Rookh, having now 
reached, I understand, its twentieth edition, a short account 
of tne origin and progress of a work which has been hith 
erto so very fortunate in its course, may not be deemed, 
perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. 

It was about the year IS 12 that, far more through the 
encouraging suggestions of friends than from any confident 
promptings of my own ambition, I conceived the design of 
writing a Poem upon some Oriental subject, and of those 
quarto dimensions which Scott's successful publications in 
that form had then rendered the regular poetical standard. 
A. negotiation on the subject was opened with the Messrs. 
Longman, in the same year ; but, from some causes which 
I cannot now recollect, led to no decisive result ; nor was 
it till a year or two after, that any further steps were taken 
in the matter, — their house being the only one, it is right 
to add, with which, from first to last, I held any communi- 
cation upon the subject. 

On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly offered himself 
as my representative in the treaty ; and, what with the 
friendly zeal of my negotiator on the one side, and the 
prompt and liberal spirit with which he was met on the 
other, there has seldom, 1 think, occurred any transaction 
in which Trade and Poesy have shone out so advanta- 
geously in each other's eves. The short discussion that 
then took place, between the two parties, may be comprised 
in a very few sentences. " I am of opinion," said Mr. 
Perry, — enforcing his view of the case by arguments 
which it is not for me to cite. — "that Mr. Moore ought 
to receive for his Poem the largest price that has been 



8 PREFACE. 

given, in our day, for such a work." " That was," an 
swered the Messrs. Longman, " three thousand guineas." 
*' Exactly so," replied Mr, Perry, " and no less a sum 
ought he to receive." 

It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the part 
of the firm, that they had never yet seen a single line of 
the Poem ; and that a perusal of the work ought to be 
allowed to them, before they embarked so large a sum 
in the purchase. But, no; — the romantic view which 
my friend, Perry, took of the matter, was, that this price 
should be given as a tribute to reputation already ac- 
quired, without any condition for a previous perusal of 
the new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a little 
startled and alarmed me ; but, to the honor and glory of 
Romance, — as well on the publishers' side as the poet's, — 
this very generous view of the transaction was, without any 
difficulty, acceded to, and the firm agreed, before we sep- 
arated, that I was to receive three thousand guineas for my 
Poem. 

At the time of this agreement, but little of the work, as it 
stands at present, had yet been written. But the ready con- 
fidence in my success shown by others, made up for the 
deficiency of that requisite feeling, within myself; while a 
strong desire not wholly to disappoint this " auguring hope," 
became almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year 
1815, therefore, having made some progress in my task, 1 
wrote to report the state of the work to the Messrs. Long- 
man, adding, that I was now most willing and ready, should 
they desire it, to submit the manuscript for their considera- 
tion. Their answer to this offer was as follows: — "We 
are certainly impatient for the perusal of the Poem ^ but 
solely for our gratification. Your sentiments are always 
honorable," ^ 

I continued to pursue my task for another year, being 
likewise occasionally occupied with the Irish Melodies, two 
or three numbers of which made their appearance, during 
the period employed in writing Lalla Rookh, At length, 
in the year 1S16, I found my work sufficiently advanced to 
be placed in the hands of the publishers. But the state of 
distress to which England was reduced, in that dismal year, 

• April 10. 1813. 



PREFACE. y 

by the exhausting effects of the series of wars she had just 
ihen conchided, and the general embarrassment of all classes, 
both agricultural and commercial, rendered it a juncture the 
least favorable that could well be conceived for the first 
launch into print of so light and costly a venture as LalJa 
Rookh. Feeling conscious, therefore, that, under such cir- 
cumstances, I should act but honestly in puttino- it in the 
power of the Messrs. Longman to reconsider the terms of 
their engagement with me, — leaving them free to post, 
pone, modify, or even, should such be their wish, relinquish 
it altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, and re- 
ceived the following answer: — "We shall be most happv 
in the pleasure of seeing you in February We aaree with 
you, indeed, that the times are most inauspicious fo7 ' poetrv 
and thousands ; ' but we believe that your poetry would do 
more than that of any other living poet at the present mo- 
ment." 1 

The length of time T employed in writing the few stories 
strung together in Lalla Rookh will appear, to some persons, 
much more than was necessary for the production of such 
easy and " light o' love " fictions. But, besides that I have 
been, at all times, a far more slow and painstaking workman 
than would ever be guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt 
tint, in this mstance, I had taken upon myself a more than 
ordinary responsibility, from the immense stake risked by 
others on my chance of success. For a long time, there- 
fore, after the agreement hud been concluded^ though gren- 
erally at work with a view to this task, I made but very 
litlle real progress in it ; and I have still by me the becrin- 
nings of several stories, continued, some of them to the 
length of three or four hundred lines, which, after in vain 
endeavoring to mould them into shape, I threw aside, like 
the tale of Cambuscan, "left half-told." One of these 
stories, entitled The Peri's Daughter, was meant to relate 
the loves of a nymph of this aerial extraction with a vouth 
of mortal race, the rightful Prince of Ormuz, who had been 
from his mfancy, brought up, in seclusion, on the banks of 
the river Amou, by an aged guardian named Mohassan 
The story opens with the first meeting of these destined 
lovers, then in their childhood ; the Peri having wafted her 



]Noveln^>er 9, 1816. 



10 PREFACE. 

daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, eDchanted bo3t, 
wliose first appearance is thus described • — 



For, down the silvery tide afar, 
There came a boat, as swift and bright 

As shines, in heaven, some pilgrim-star, 
That leaves its own high home, at night, 
To shoot to distant shrines of light. 

" It comes, it comes," young Orian cries, 

And panting to Mohassan flies. 
Then down upon the flowery grass 
Reclines to see the vision pass ; 
With partly joy and partly fear, 
To find its wondrous light so near, 
And hiding oft his dazzFed eyes 
Among the flowers on which he lies. 

Within the boat a baby slept. 

Like a young pearl within its shell ; 

\Vhile one, who seemed of riper years 

But not of earth, or earth-like spheres. 
Her watch beside the slumberer kept j 
Gracefully waving, in her hand. 

The feathers of some holy bird, 

With which, from time to time, she stirred 
The fragrant air, and coolly fanned 
The baby's brow, or brushed away 

The butterflies that, bright and blue 
As on the mountains of JVlalay, 

Ai"ound the sleeping infant flew. 

And now the fairy boat hath stopped 
Beside the bank, — the nymph has dropped 
Her golden anchor in the stream ; 



A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of which the 
following forms a part : — 

My child she is but half divine ; 
Her father sleeps in the Caspian water j 
Sea-weeds twine 
His funeral shrine, 
But he lives again in the Peri's daughter. 
Fain would I fly from mortal sight 

To my o^vn sweet bowers of Peristan ; 
But there, the flowers are all too bright 

For the eyes of a baby born of man. 
On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; 

So hither my light-winged bark hath brought her? 
Stranger, spread 
Thy leafiest bed. 
To rest the wandering ^e^'s daughter. 



PREFACE. II 

In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud female 
saint, named Banou, plays a principal part ; and her progress 
ihiough the streets of Cufa, on the night of a great illumina- 
ted festival, I find thus described : — 

It was a scene of mirth that drew 

A smile from ev'n the Saint Banou, 

As, through the hushed, admiring throng, 

She went with stately steps along, 

And counted o'er, that all might see, 

The rubies of her rosary. 

But none might see the worldly smile 

That lurked beneath her veil, the while : — 

Alia forbid ! for, who would wait 

Her blessing at the temple's gate, — 

What holy man would ever run 

To kiss the ground she knelt upon, 

If once, by luckless chance, he knew 

She looked and smiled as others do. 

Her hands were joined, and from each wrist 

By threads of pearl and golden twist 

Hung relics of the saints of yore. 

And scraps of talismanic lore, — 

Charms for the old, the sick, the frail. 

Some made for use, and all for sale. 

On either side, the crowd withdrew, 

To let the Saint pass proudly through ; 

While turbaned heads, of every hue. 

Green, white, and crimson, bowed eirouad, 

And gay tiaras touched the ground,— 

As tulip-bells, when o'er their beds 

The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. 

!Nay, some there were, among the crowd 

Of Moslem heads that round her bowed. 

So filled with zeal, by many a draught 

Of Shiraz wine profanely quaffed, 

That, sinking low in reverence then. 

They never rose till morn again. 

There are yet two more of these unfinished sketches, one 
of which extends to a much greater length than I was aware 
of; and, as far as 1' can judge from a hasty renewal of my 
acquaintance with i , is not incapable of being yet turned to 
account. 

In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale of The 
Peri's Daughter, had I yet ventured to invoke that most 
home-felt of all my inspirations, which has lent to the story 
of The Fire-worshippers its main attraction and interest. 
That it was my intention, in the concealed Prince of Ormuz, 
to shadow out some impersonation of this feeling, I take for 



12 PREFACE. 

granted from he prophttic words supposed to be addressed 
to him by his aged guardian : — 

Bright child of destiny ! even now 
1 read the piomise on that brow, 
That tyrants shall no more defile 
The glories of the Green-Sea Isle, 
But Ormuz shall again be free, 
And hail her native Lord in thee ! 

In none of the other fragments do I find any trace of this 
sort of feeling, either in the subject or the personages of the 
intended story ; and this was the reason, doubtless, though 
hardly known, at the time, to myself, that, finding my sub- 
jects so slow in kindling my own sympathies, I began to de- 
spair of their ever touching the hearts of others; and felt 
often inclined to say, 

" O no, I have no voice or hand 
For such a song, in such a land." 

Had this series of disheartening experiments been carried on 
much further, I must have thrown aside the work in despair. 
But, at last, fortunately, as it proved, the thought occurred 
to me of founding a story on the fierce struggle so long 
maintained between the Ghebers,i or ancient Fire-worship- 
pers of Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. From 
that moment, a new and deep interest in my whole task took 
possession of me. The cause of tolerance was again my in- 
spiring theme ; and the spirit that had spoken in the melodies 
of Irelai.d soon found itself at home in the East. 

Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop to ac- 
count for the time expended in ivrifAng this work, I must 
also, in justice to my own industry, notice the pains I took 
in long and laboriously reading for it. To form a store- 
house, as it were, of illustration purely Oriental, and so 
familiarize myself with its various treasures, that, as quick 
as Fancy required the aid of fact, in her spiritings, the 
memory was ready, like another Ariel, at her "strong bid- 
ding," to furnish materials for the spell-work, — such was, 

* Voltaire, in his tragedy of "Les Gu^bres," ^\Titten •with a similar under 
current of meaning, was accused of having transformed his Fire-worshippers 
into Jansenists: — " Quelques figuristes," he says, "pretendent que Jes 
(JMebvRS sont les Jansenistes.' 



PREFACE. t? 

for a long while, the sole object of my studies; and whatever 
time and trouble this preparatory process may have cost mo, 
the effects resulting from it, as far as the humble merit of 
truthfulness is concerned, have been such as to repay me 
more than sufficiently for my pains. I have not forgotten 
how great was my pleasure, when told by the late Sir James 

Mackintosh, that he was once asked by Colonel W s, 

the historian of British India, *•' whether it was true that 
Moore had never been in the East." " Never," answered 
M ickintosh. " Well, that shows me," replied Colonel 

W s, " that reading over D'Herbelot is as good as riding 

on the back of a camel." 

I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that although 
D'Herbelot's valuable work was, of course, one of my manu- 
als, I took the whole range of all such Oriental reading as 
was accessible to me; and became, for the time, indeed, far 
more conversant with all relating to that distant region, than 
I have ever been with the scenery, productions, or modes of 
life of any of those countries lying most within my reach. 
We know that D'Anville, though never in his life out of 
Paris, was able to correct a number of errors in a plan of 
the Troad taken by De Choiseul, on the spot; and, for my 
own very different, as well as far inferior, purposes, the 
knowledge I had thus acquired of distant localities, seen 
only by me in my day-dreams, was no less ready and useful. 

An ample reward for all this painstaking has been found 
in such welcome tributes as I have just now cited ; nor can 
I deny myself the gratification of citing a few more of the 
same description. From another distincjuished authority on 
Eastern subjects, the late Sir John Malcolm, I had myself 
the pleasure of hearin,e a similar opinion publicly expressed; 
— that eminent person, in a speech spoken by him at a 
Literary I und Dinner, having remarked, that together with 
those qualities of the poet which he much too partially as- 
signed to me was combined also '' the truth of the historian." 

S'ir William Ouseley, another high authority, in giving hii 
*rst mony to the same effect, thus notices an exception tc 
the general accuracy for which he gives me credit : — 
" Dazzled by the beauties of this composition, i few readers 
can perceive, and none surely can regret, that the poet, in 

' The F. re-worshippers. 



14 PREFACE, 

his magnificent catastrophe, has forgotten, or boldly and 
most happily violated, the precept of Zoroaster, above no- 
ticed, which held it impious to consume any portion of a 
human body by lire, especially by that which glowed upon 
their altars." Having long lost, I fear, most of my Eastern 
learning, I can only cite, in defence of my catastrophe, an 
old Oriental tradition, which relates, that Nimrod, when 
Abraham refused, at his command, to worship the fire, or- 
dered him to be thrown into the midst of the flames.^ A 
precedent so ancient for this sort of use of the worshipped 
element, would appear, for all purposes at least of poetry, 
fully sufficient. 

In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have also 
heard, and need hardly add, with some pride and pleasure, 
that parts of this work have been rendered into Persian, and 
have found their way to Ispahan. To this fact, as I am 
willing to think it, allusion is made in some lively verses, 
written many years since, by my friend, Mr. Luttrell : — 

" I'm told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, 
(Can it be true, you lucky man ?) 
By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, 
Along the streets of Ispahan." 

That some knowledge of the work may have really 
reached that region, appears not improbable from a passage 
in the Travels of Mr. Frazer, who says, that " being de- 
layed for some time at a town on the shores of the Caspian, 
he was lucky enough to be able to amuse himself with a 
copy of Lalla Rookh, which a Persian had lent him." 

Of the description of Balbec, in "Paradise and the Peri," 
Mr. Carne, in his Letters from the East, thus speaks : " The 
description in Lalla Rookh of the plain and its ruins is ex- 
quisitely faithful. The minaret is on the declivity near at 
hand, and there wanted only the muezzin's cry to break the 
silence." 

i shall now tax my reader's patience with but one more 
of these generous vouchers. Whatever of vanity there may 
be in citing such tributes, they show, at least, of what great 
value, even in poetry, is that prosaic quality, industry; 
since, as the reader of the foregoing pages is now fully ap- 

* Tradunt autem Hebraei hanc fabulam quod Abraham in ignem missus si 
quia ignem adorare noluit — St. Hierox. in qv-tzst. in Genesim. 



PRE! ACE. 15 

prized, it was in a slow and laborious collection of small 
facts, that the first foundations of this fanciful Romance 
were laid. 

The friendly testimony I have just referred to, appeared, 
some years since, in the form in which I now give it, and, 
if I recollect ricrht, in the Athenaeum : — 

" I embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual 
testimony (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary ac- 
curacy of Mr. Moore, in his topographical, antiquarian, and 
characteristic details, whether of costume, manners, or less- 
changing monuments, both in his Lalla Rookh and in the 
Epicurean. It has been my fortune to read his Atlantic, 
Bermudean, and American Odes and Epistles, in the coun- 
tries and among the people to which and to whom they re- 
lated ; I enjoyed aJso the exquisite delight of reading his 
Lalla Rookh, in Persia itself: and I hive perused the 
Epicurean, while all my recollections of Egypt and its still 
existing wonders are as fresh as when I quitted the banks 
of the Nile for Arabia ; — I owe it therefore, as a debt of 
gratitude, (though the payment is most inadequate,) for the 
great pleasure I liave derived from his productions, to bear 
my humble testimony to their local fidelity. J S. B." 

Among the incidents connected with this work, I must 
not omit to notice the splendid Divertissement, founded 
upon it, which was acted at the Chateau Royal of Berlin, 
during the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas to that capital, 
in the year IS'2'2. The different stories composing the 
work were represented in Tableaux Vivans and songs ; and 
amonsf the crowd of royal and noble personages engaged in 
the performances, I shall mention those only who repre- 
sented the principal characters, and whom I find thus enu- 
merated in the published account of the Divertissement.^ 

"Fadladin. Grand-ZNasir, Comte Haack, {Mar4chal de Cour.) 

Aliris, Roi de Bucharie, S. A. J. Le Grand Due. 

Lallah RoOikh, S. A. I. La Grande Ihichesse. 

A u I /- J AT I { S. A. R. Le Prince GniUaume, frhe du 

Aurungzeb, le Grand Mogol,.. l j, ■ ''' 

Abdallah, Pere d'Aliris, S. A. R. Le Due de Cumberland. 

La Reine, son cpoase, S. A. R. La Princesse Louise RadziviU.'^ 

> LalK Roukh, Divertissement mcle de Chants et de Uanses. Be-liri, 
\^-l2. The work contains a series of colored engravings, representing 
'roups, processions, &c., in different Oriental costumes. 



J6 PREFACE. 

Besides these and other leadinor personages, there were 
also brought into action, under liie various denominations 
of Seigneurs et Dames de Bucharie, Dames de Cachemire, 
Seio-neurs et Dames dansans a la Fete des Roses, &:,c., 
nearly 150 persons. 

Of the manner and style in which iha Tableaux of the 
different stories are described in the work from which I 
cite, the following account of the performance of Paradise 
and the Peri will afford some specimen : — 

" La decoraticn representoit les portes brillantes du Pa- 
radis, entourees de nuages. Dans le premier tableau on 
voyoit la Peri, triste et desolee, couchee sur le seuil des 
portes fermees, et I'Ange de lumiere qui lui addresse des 
consolations et des conseils. Le second represente le mo- 
ment, ou la Peri, dans I'espoir que ce don lui ouvrira I'entree 
du Paradis recueille la derniere goutte de sang que vient de 
verser le jeune guerrier Indien 

" La Peri et I'Ange de lumiere repondoient pleinement a 
{'image et a I'idee qu'on est tente de se faire de ces deux 
individus, et I'impression qu'a faite generalem.ent la suite 
des tableaux de cet episode delicat et interessant est loin de 
s'effacer de notre souvenir." 

In this grand Fete, it appears, originated the translation 
of Lalla Rookh into German verse, by the Baron de la 
Motte Fouque ; and the circumstances which led him to 
undertake the task, are described by himself, in a Dedica- 
tory Poem to the Empress of Russia, which he has prefixed 
to his translation. As soon as the performance, he tells us, 
had ended, Lalla Rookh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, 
with a sigh, " Is it, then, all over ? are we now at the close 
of all that has given us so much delight? and iiveu there no 
poet who will impart to others, and to future times, some 
notion of the happiness we have enjoyed this evening?" On 
hearing this appeal, a Knight of Cashmere (who is no other 
than the poetical Baron himself) comes forward and prom- 
isQs to attempt to present to the world ** the Poem itself in 
the measure of the original : " — whereupon Lalla Rookh 
ii is added, approvingly smiled 



i 



lALLA ROOKH. 



LALLA EOOKH. 



In tlie eleventh year of the reign of Auriingzebe, 
Abdalla, King of the Lesser Bucharia, a lineal de- 
scendant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated 
the throne in favor of his son, set out on a pilgrim- 
age to the Shrine of the Prophet ; and, passing into 
India through the delightful valley of Cashmere, 
rested for a short time at Delhi on his way. He 
was entertained by Aurungzebe in a style of mag- 
nificent hospitality, worthy alike of the visitor and 
the host, and was afterwards escorted with the same 
splendor to Surat, where he embarked for Arabia.^ 
Durmg the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a 
marriage was agreed upon between the Prince, his 
son, and the youngest daughter of the Emperor, 
Lalla Rookh ; ^ — a Princess described by tlie 
poets of her time as more beautiful than Leila,*' 
Shirine,'* Dewildc-,^ or any of those heroines whose 
names and loves embellish the songs of Persia and 

1 These particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Auruiiyzebe 
ore found in Uow's History of Hindostua, vol. iii. p. 3'J2. 

2 Tulip cheek. 

3 The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many Kcmances in all 
the languages of the Kast are founded. 

* For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Rhosrou and with F'erhad, 
jee D^ tferbelot, (ribbon, Oriental Collections, &,c. 

* •' The history of the loves of Dewild^ and Chizer. the son of the Km- 
peror Alia, is written in an elegant poem, by tlie noble Chusero." — 1\;- 
rishta. 



20 LALLA.ROOKH. 

Hindostan. It was intended that tlie nuptials should 
bfi celebrated at Cashmere ; where the young King, 
as soon as the cai'es of empire would permit, was to 
meet, for the first time, his lovely bride, and, after 
a few months' repose in that enchanting valley, 
conduct her over the snowy hills into Bucharia. 

The day of Lalla Rookh's departure from Delhi 
was as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could 
make it. The bazaars and batns were all covered 
with the richest tapestry ; hundreds of gilded barges 
upon the Jumna floated with their banners shining 
in tlie water ; while through the streets groups of 
beautiful children went strewing the most delicious 
flowers around, as in that Persian festival called the 
Scattering of the Roses ; ^ till every part of the city 
was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten 
had passed through it. The Princess, having taken 
leave of her kind father, who at parting hmig a cor- 
nelian of Yemen round her neck, on which was in- 
scribed a verse from the Koran, and having sent a 
considerable present to the Fakirs, who kept up the 
Perpetual Lamp in her sister's tomb, meekly ascended 
the palankeen prepared for her ; and, while Aurung- 
zebe stood to take a last look from his balcony, the 
procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. 

Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade 
so superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to the 
Imperial palace, it was one unbroken line of splen- 
dor. The gallant appearance of the Rajahs and 
Mogul lords, distinguished by those insignia of the 
Emperor's favor,'^ the feathers of the egret of Gash- 

1 Gul Reazee. 

* " One mark of honor or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the 
permission to wear a small kettle-drum at the bows of their sr.ddles which 
at lirst was invented lor the training of hawks, and to call them to t^'»<» 



LALLAROOKH. 21 

mere, in their t irbans, and the small silver-rimmed 
kettle-drums at the bows of their saddles ; — the 
costly armor of their cavaliers, who vied, on this oc- 
casion, with the guards of the great Keder Khan,^ in 
the brightness of then silver battle-axes and the mas- 
siness of their maces of gold ; — the glittering of the 
gilt pine-apples^ on the tops of the palankeens; — 
the embroidered trappings of the elephants, bearing 
on their backs small turrets, in the shape of little 
antique temples, Avithin which the Ladies of Lalla 
RooKH lay as it were enshrined ; — the rose-colored 
veils of the Princess's own sumptuous litter,"^ at the 
front of which a fair young female slave sat fanning 
her through the curtains, with feathers of the Argus 
pheasant's wing ; ^ — and the lovely troop of Tartarian 
and Cashmerian maids of honor, whom the young 
King had sent to accompany his bride, and who rode 
on each side of the litter, upon small Arabian horses ; — 



lure, and is worn in the field by all sportsmen to that end." — Fryers 
Travels. 

" Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege nmst wear an 
ornament of jewels on the right side of the turban, surninuiited bv a high 
plume of the feathers of a kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cash- 
mere, and the feathers are carefully collected for the King, who bestows 
them on his nobles." — Elpliinstone's Account of Caubul. 

1 "Khedar Khan, the Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gihon, 
(at the end of the eleventh century.) whenever he appeared abroad, was pre- 
ceded by seven hundred horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was followed 
by an e(iual number bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of 
poetry, and it was he who used to preside at public exercises of genius, 
with four basins of gold and silver by him to distribute among the poets who 
excelled." — Richardson's Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary. 

2 '• The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine- 
apple, on ihe top of the canopy over the litter or palanqain." — Scotfs 
]\otes on the Bahardanush. 

3 In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following lively 
description of" a company of maidens seated on camels." 

" They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, and with 
rose-coUred veils, the linings of which have the hue of crimson Andera 
wood. 

" When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward on the 
eaddle-cloth. with every mark of a voluptuous gayety. 

" I\ow, when they have reached the brink of yon blue-gushing rivulet, 
they fix the poles of" their tents like the Arab with a settled mansion." 

* See Btniiprs description of the attendants on Kaucbamara- Begum, iu 
her nrogress to Cashmere. 



22 L.ALLAROOKH. 

all was brilliant, tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased 
even the critical and fastidious Fadlai»een, Great 
Nazir or Chamberlain of the Haram, who was borne 
in his palankeen immediately after the Princess, and 
considered himself not the least important personage 
of the pageant. 

Fadladeen was a judge of every thing, — from 
the pencillnig of a Circassian's eyelids to the dee])est 
questions of science and literature ; from the mixture 
of a conserve of rose-leaves to the composition of an 
epic poem : and such influence had his opinion upon 
the various tastes of the day, that all the cooks and 
poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His political 
conduct and opinions were founded upon that line of 
Sadi, — "Should the Prince at noon-day say. It is 
night, declare that you behold the moon and stars." — 
And his zeal for religion, of which Aurnngzebe was a 
munificent protector,^ was about as disinterested as 
that of the goldsmith who fell in love with the dia- 
mond eyes of the idol of Jaghernaut.^ 

During the first days of their journey, Lalla Rookh, 

who had passed all her life within the shadow of the 
Royal Gardens of Delhi, ^ found enough in the beauty 



' This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of cer- 
tam Holy Leagues. — " He held the cloak of religion (says Dow) between 
his actions and the vulgar; and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success 
which he owed to his own wickedness. When he was murdering and per- 
secuting his brothers and their families, he was building a magnificent 
mosque at Delhi, as an offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil 
wars. He acted as high priest at the consecration of this temple ; and 
made a practice of attending divine service there, in the humble dress of a 
Fakeer. But whe« he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, 
feigned warrants for the assassination of his relations." — History of Hin- 
dostan, vol. iii. p. 335. See also the curious letter of Aurungzebe^ given in 
the Oriental Collections, vol. i. p. 320. 

2 " The Idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes. No goldsiaith 
iis suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stole one of these eyes, behig 
locked up all night with the Idol." — Tavernier. 

3 See a description of these royal Gardens in " An Account of tlie prefeent 
Stale of Delhi, bv Li« at. W. Franklin." — Asiat. Researcli. vol. iv p, 417 



LiALLAROOKH. 23 

of the Dcenery through which they passed to interest 
her mind, and dehght her imagination ; and when at 
evening, or in the heat of the day, they tmiied oft' 
from the high road to those retired and romantic 
places which had been selected for her encampments, 
sometimes on the banks of a small rivulet, as clear 
as the waters of the Lake of Pearl ; ^ sometimes un- 
der the sacred shade of a Banyan tree, from whicli 
the view opened upon a glade covered with antelopes ; 
and often in those hidden, embowered spots, described 
by one from the Isles of the West,^ as " places of 
melancholy, delight, and safety, where all the com- 
pany around was wild peacocks and turtle-doves ; '' — 
she felt a charm in these scenes, so lovely and so new 
to her, which, for a time, made her indifferent to 
every other amusement. But Lalla Rookh was 
young, and the young love variety ; nor could the 
conversation of her Ladies and the. Great Chamber- 
lain Fadladeeiv, (the only persons, of course, admit- 
ted to her pavilion,) sufficiently enliven those many 
vacant hours, which were devoted neither lo the 
pillow nor the palankeen. There was a little Persian 
slave who sung sweetly to the Vina, and who, now 
and then, lulled the Princess to sleep with the ancieut 
ditties of her country, about the loves of Wamak and 
Ezra,"^ the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodahver,'' 



1 " In the neighborhood is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, which re- 
ceives this name from its pellucid water." — FennanVs Hindostan. 

" Nasir Jung, encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, amused 
himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and gave it the fanci- 
ful name of Motee Talah, 'the Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains." — 
Wilks^s South of India. 

2 Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James L to Jehanguire. 

3 " The romance VVemakweazra, written in Persian verse, which con- 
tains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived before 
tlu- time of Mahomet." — Note, on the Oriental Tales. 

« Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Namuh of Ferdousi ; and there 
is much beautv in the passasre which describes the slaves of Rodahver sit- 
t'ng on the bank of the river and throwing flowers into the stream, in ordei 
lo draw the attention of the young Hero who is p-icimc^d on the opposite 
9iJo. — See Champion's translation. 



24 L A L I. A R O O K H . 

not forgetting the combat of Riistam with the terrible 
White Demon. ^ At other times she was amused by 
those graceful dancing-gu'ls of Delhi, who had been 
permitted by the Bramms of the Great Pagoda to 
attend her, much to the horror of the good Mussul- 
man Fadladeen, who could see nothuig graceful or 
agreeable in idolaters, and to whom the very tinkling 
of their golden anklets^ was an abomination. 

But these and many other diversions were repeated 
till they lost all their charm, and the nights and noon- 
days were beginning to move heavily, when, at length, 
it was recollected that, among the attendants sent by 
the bridegroom, was a young poet of Cashmere, much 
celebrated throughout the Valley for his manner of 
reciting the Stories of the East, on whom his Royal 
Master had conferred the privilege of being admitted 
to the pavilion of the Princess, that he might help to 
beguile the tediousness of the journey, by some of 
his most agreeable recitals. At the mention of a poet, 
Fadladeen elevated his critical eyebrows, and, hav- 
ing refreshed his faculties with a dose of that de- 
licious opium ^ which is distilled from the black poppy 

^ Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars of his vic- 
tory over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see Oriental Collections. 
vol. ii. p. 45. — Js'ear the city of Shirauz is an immense quadrangular mon- 
ument, in commemoration of this combat, called tlie Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed 
or castle of the White Giant, which Father Angelo, in his Gazophilacium 
Persicum, p. 127, declares to have been the most memorable monument of 
antiquity which he had seen in Persia. — See Ouseley's Persian Miscel 
lanies. 

2 '' The women of the Idol, or dancing-girls of the Pagoda, have JittU> 
golden bells, fastened to their feet, the soft, harmonious tinkling of which 
vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of their voices.'" — J'aurice^s 
Indian Antiquities. 

" The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have little golden 
bells fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, to the sound of which 
they dance before the King. The Arabian princesses wear golden rirsTs ou 
their fingers, to which little bells are suspended, as well as in the floAving 
tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may be known, and they them- 
selves receive in passing the homage due to them." — See CriZwefs Dic- 
tionary, art. Bells. 

3 " Abou-Tige. ville de la Thebalde, ou il croit beaucoup de pavot nou 
dont se fait le meilleur opium." — D' Herbelnt. 



LALLA ROOKH. 26 

of the Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel to be 
foithwith introduced into the presence. 

The Princess, who had once in her life seen a poet 
from behind the screens of gauze in her Father's hall, 
and had conceived from that specimen no very fa- 
vorable ideas of the Caste, expected but little in this 
new exhibition to interest her; — she felt inclined, 
however, to alter her opinion on the very first appear- 
ance ot" Feramorz. He was a youth about Lalla 
Rookh's own age, and graceful as that idol of women, 
Crishna,! — such as he appears to their young im- 
aginations, heroic, beautiful, breathing music from 
his very eyes, and exalting the religion of his wor- 
shippers into love. His dress was simple, yet not 
without some marks of costliness ; and the Ladies of 
the Princess were not long in discovering that the 
cloth, which encircled his high Tartarian cap, was of 
the most delicate kind that the shawl-goals of Tibet 
supply.^ Here and there, too, over his vest, which 
was confined by a flowered girdle of Kashan, hung 
strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of studied 
negligence ; — nor did the exquisite embroidery of his 
sandals escape the observation of these fair critics ; 
who, however they might give way to Fadladeen 
upon the unimportant topics of religion and govern- 
ment, had the spirit of martyrs in every thing relating 
to such momentous matters as jewels and embroidery. 

For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recitation 
by music, the young Cashmerian held in his hand a 



1 The Indian Apollo. — "He and the three Ramas are described a? 
youths of perfect beauty; and the princesses of Hindustan were ail pas- 
sionately in love with Chrishna, who continues to this hour the darling 
God of the Indian women." — Sir VV Jones, on the Gods of Greece, Italy, 
and India. 

'■' See Turner's t'mbassy for a description of this animal. " the most 
Deautiful among the whole tribe of goats." The material for the shawls 
(wlich is carried to Cashmere) is found next the skin. 



26 LALLAROOKH. 

kitar ; — such as, in old times, the Arab maids of the 
West used to listen to by moonlight in the gardens 
of the Alhambra — and, having premised, with much 
humility, that the story he was about to relate was 
founded on the adventures of that Veiled Prophet of 
Khorassan,^ who, in the year of the Hegira 163, crea- 
ted such alarm throughout the Eastern Empire, made 
an obeisance to the Princess, and thus began : — 

1 F'nr the real history of this Impostor, whose original name was Hakem 
bei Haschem, and who was called Mocanna from the veil of silver gauze 
(or, as others say, golden, vhich he always wore, see V Herbelot. 



THE 



VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 



In that delightful Province of the Sun, 
The fii'st of Persian lands he shines upon, 
Where all the loveliest children of his beam, 
Flowerets and fruits, blush over every stream,* 
And, fairest of all streams, the Murga roves 
Among Merou's ^ bright palaces and groves ; — 
There on that throne, to which the blind belief 
Of millions raised him, sat the Prophet-Chief, 
The Great IMokanna. 0"er his features hung 
The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had tiung 
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 
For, far less luminous, his votaries said, 
Were ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed 
O'er ^Joussa's"* cheek, ^ when down the Mount he trod, 
All glowing from the presence of his God ! 

On either side, with ready hearts and hands, 
His chosen guard of bold Believers, stands ; 

J Khora^san signifies, in the old Persian language, Province or Region 
of the Sun. — Sir \\\ Jones. 

* " The fruits of Mem are finer than those of anv other place ; and one 
cannot see in any other city such palaces with groves, and streams, and 
gardens.*' — Etni Hmikal's Geography. 

' One of the royal cities of Khorassan. * Moses. 

5 " Ses disciples assuroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, pour nc paa 



28 L A L L 4 R O O K H . 

Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, 
On points of faith, more eloquent than words ; 
And such their zeal, there's not a youth with brand 
UpHfted there, but, at the Chiefs command, 
Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, 
And bless the lius that doomed so dear a death ! 
In iiatred to the Caliph's hue of night, ^ 
Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; 
Their weapons various — some equipped, for speed, 
With javelins of the light Kathaian reed ; ^ 
Or bov/s of buffalo horn and shining quivers 
Fill'd with the stems ^ that bloom on Iran's rivers;'* 
While some, for war's more terrible attacks, 
Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe ; 
And as they wave aloft in morning's beam 
The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem 
Like a chenar-tree grove ^ when winter throws 
O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. 

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold. 



eblouir ceux qui I'approchoient par Teclat de son visage comme Moyse." 
— UHerbelot. 

1 Black was the color adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in 
their garments, turbans, and standards. — "11 faut remarquer ici touchant 
les l>abits blancs des disciples de Hakem. que la couleur des habits, dea 
cOefFures et des etendarts des Khalifes Abassides etant la noire, ce chef de 
Rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir une qui lui fut plus opposee." — D' tierbelot. 

* " Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, slender and 
delicate." — Poem of Aimru. 

3 Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 

4 The Persian? call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, 
one of their ancient heroes, was made of it. — " JNothing can be more beau- 
tiful than the appearance of this plant in flower during the rains on the 
banks of rivers, where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining 
asclepias." — Sir W. Jones, Botanical Observations on Select Indian 
Plants. 

^ The Oriental plane. *' The chenar is a delightful tree ; its bole is of 
a fine white and smooth bark 5 and its foliage, which grows in a tuft &tthe 
summit, is of a bright green." — Moriers Travels. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 29 

A.loft the Haram's curtained galleries rise, 
Where through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, 
From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow 
Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp below. — 
What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare 
To hint that aught but Heaven hath placed you there ? 
Or that the loves of this light world could bind. 
In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind ? 
No — wrongful thought! — commissioned from above 
To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, 
(Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes 
They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) 
There to recline among Hea.ven's native maids, 
And crown the' Elect with bliss that never fades — 
Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done ; 
And every beauteous race beneath the sim, 
From those who kneel at Brahma's burnmg founts,^ 
To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er Yemen's mounts; 
From Persia's eyes of full and fawn-like ray, 
To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay ; ^ 
And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker smiles, 
And the gold rmglets of the Western Isles ; 
All, all are there ; — each Land its flower hath given, 
To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! 

But why this pageant now ? this armed array ? 
What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
With turbaned heads, of every hue and race, 
Bowing before that veiled and awful face, 



' The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, euteerned ."s holy.— 
Turner. 
2 China. 

3* 



30 LALLAROOKH. 

Like tulip-beds.^ of different shape and dyes, 
Bending beneath the' invisible West-Avmd"s sighs 
What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, 
And bJood to seal, as genuine and divine. 
What dazzHng mimicry of God's own power 
Hath the bold Prophet planned to grace this hour 'i 

Not such the pageant now, though not less proud: 
Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, 
With silver bow, with belt of broidered crape, 
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape, ^ 
So fiercely beautiful in form and eye. 
Like war's wild planet in a summer sky ; 
That youth to-day, — a proselyte, worth hordes 
Of cooler spirits and less practised swords, — 
Is come to join, all bravery and belief, 
The creed and standard of tlie heaven-sent Chief. 

Though few his years, the West already knows 
Young Azim's fame ; — beyond the' Olympian snows 
Ere manhood darkened o'er his downy cheek, 
O'erwhelmed in fight and captive to the Greek, ^ 
He lingered there, till peace dissolved his chains ; — • 
O, who could, even in bondage, tread the plains 
Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
Kindling within him ? who, with heart and eyes. 



' " The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, and given to 
the flower on account of its resembling a turban." — Beckjnann's History of 
inventions. 

• " The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped much 
B-''ter the Polish fashion, having a large fur border. They tie their kaftana 
about the middle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round 
ine body.'" — Account of Independent Tartan/, vi Pinkertons Collection 

3 In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress Irene, for an ao 
inuut of which vide G-ibbon, vol. x. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 31 

^ou d Wvalk where Liberty had beeiT, nor see 
The shining foot-prints of her Deity, 
Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air, 
Which mutely told her spirit had been there ? 
Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
for his soul's qiiiet worked the' awakening spell ) 
And now, returning to his own dear land. 
Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, 
Haunt the young heart, — proud views of human-kind. 
Of men to Gods exalted and refined, — 
False views, like that horizon's fair deceit. 
Where earth and heaven but seem, alas, to meet ! — 
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was raised 
To right the nations, and beheld, emblazed 
On the white flag Mokanna's host unfurled. 
Those words of sunshine, '' Freedom to the World,' 
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obeyed 
The' inspiring summons ; every chosen blade 
That fought beneath that banner's sacred text 
Seemed doubly edged, for this world and the next ; 
And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind 
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, 
In virtue's cause; — never was soul inspired 
With livelier trust in what it most desirtjd, 
Than his, the' enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale 
With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, 
Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 
Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 
This fettered world from every bond and stain, 
And bring its primal glories back again ! 

Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd 
Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bowed 



B5i LALLAHUOKH. 

With shouts of "Alla!" echoing long and loud; 
While high in air, above the Prophet's head, 
Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam sju'ead, 
Waved, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
Tlie flying throne of star-taught Soliivian.^ 
Then thus he spoke : — " Stranger, though new 

the frame 
" Thy soul inhabits now, I've tracked its flame 
" For many an age,^ in every chance and change 
" Of that existence, through whose varied range, — 
'^ As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand., 
'-'The flying youths transmit their shining brand, — 
•' Ff/^m frame to frame the unextinguished soul 
" Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 

''Nor think 'tis only the gross Spirits, warmed 
" With duskier fire and for earth's medium formed, 
"That run this course; — Beings, the most divine, 
"Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 
" Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, 
" To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt : ^ 
" Such the refined Intelligence that glowed 
"In Moussa's"* frame, — and, thence descending, 
flowed 

1 This wonderful Throne was called The Star of the Genii. For a full 
description of it. see the fragment, translated by Captain I'Vanklin, from a 
Persian MS entitled " The History of Jerusalem." Oriental Colhctions, 
vol. i. p. 235. — When Soliman travelled, the eastern writers say, " He liad 
a carj)et of green sillc on which his throne was placed, being of a prodigious 
length and breadth, and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, the men 
placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left: and that 
when all were in order, the wind, at his command, took up the carpet, and 
transported it, with all that were upon it, wherever he pleased ; the army 
of birds at the same time flying over their heads, and forming a kmd of can- 
opy to shade them from the sun." — Sale's Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note. 

2 The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. — Vide UHer 
belot. 

3 " And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, they all wot 
shipped him except Eblis, (Lucifer,) who refused." — The Koran, chap, ii 

« Moses, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHOKAS5AN. 38 

'• Tliro' many a Prophet's breast ; ^ — in Issa^ shone, 
'^And in Mohammed bnrned ; till, hastening on, 
'^(As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
"In many a maze descending, bright throngh all, 
•' Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past 
"In one full lake of light it rests at last,) 
" That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free 
" From lapse or shadow, centres all in me ! " 

Again, throughout the' assembly, at these words, 
Thousands of voices rung : the warriors' swords 
Were pointed up to heaven : a sudden wind 
In the' open banners played, and from behind 
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen 
The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen 
Waving embroidered scarves, whose motion gave 
A perfume forth — like those the Houris wave 
When beckoning to their bowers the' immortal Brave. 

'^ But these," pursued the Chief, '' are truths sublime, 
" That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
"Than earth allows us now; — this sword must first 
" The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst, 
'^Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
" Her wakening daylight on a world of sin. 
'•' But then, — celestial warriors, then, when all 
'Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall; 



' This is according to D'Herbelot's account of the doctrines of Mo- 
kanna: — " Sa doctrine etoit, que Dieu avoit pris une forme et figure hu- 
niaine, depuis qu'il eut commande aux Anges d'adorer Adam, le premier 
ties hommes. Qu'apns la mort d'Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous la figure 
He pliisieurs Prophttes. et autres grands hommes qu'il avoit choisis, jusqu'd 
ce qu'il prit celle d'Abu Moslem, iVince de Khorassan, lequel professoii 
I'erreur de la Tenassukhiah ou Mftempschychose ; et qu'apn^ la mort de 
re IVince, la Divir'te etoit passer^ et descendue en sa per?onne " 

' 'esifs. 



34 LALLAROOKH. 

" When tLe glad Slave sliall at these feet lay down 
" His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, 
^' The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, 
'■' And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
*' Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
" That whole dark pile of human mockeries ; — 
*' Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth, 
'' And starting fresh as from a second birth, 
" Man, in the sunshine of the world's new sprmg, 
" Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ' 
" Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow 
*' Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendors now, 
'' And gladdened Earth shall, thro' her wide expanse. 
" Bask in the glories of tins countenance ! 

" For thee, young warrior, welcome ! — thou hast yet 
'* Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, 
*' Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave ; — 
'^ But, once my own, mine all till in the grav^e ! " 

The pomp is at an end — the crowds are gone — 
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 
Of that deep voice, which thrilled like Alla's own ! 
The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances. 
The glitt(3ring throne, and Haram's half-caught glances ; 
The Old deep pondering on the promised reign 
Of peace and truth ; and all the female train 
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze ! 

But ttiere was one, among the chosen maid^s. 
Who blushed behind the gallery's silJcen shades.^ 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSaN. 35 

One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 

Has been Uke death! — you saw her pale dismay, 

Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 

Of exclamation from her lips, when first 

She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known. 

Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne. 

Ah Zelica ! there was a time, when bliss 
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his ; 
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer: 
When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. 
Too happy days ! when, if he touched a flower 
Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour ; 
When thou didst study him till every tone 
And gesture and dear look became thy own, — 
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace. 
Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice the' aerial sweetness it had brought ' 
Yet now he comes, — brighter than even he 
E'er beamed before, — but, ah ! not bright for thee 
No — dread, unlooked for, like a visitant 
From the' other world, he comes as if to haunt 
Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight, 
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight; — 
Sad dreams ! as when the Spirit of our Youth 
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
ind innocence once ours, and leads us back, 
m mournful mockery, o'er the shining track 
Of our young life, and points out every ray 
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way ! 



# 



30 LALLAROOKH. 

Odcg happy pair! — In proud Bokhara's grores. 
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves? 
Born by that ancient flood,^ which from its spring 
In the dark Mountains swiftly wandering, 
Enriched by every pilgrim brook that shines 
With relics from Bucharia's ruby mines, 
And, lending to the Caspian half its strength. 
In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length; — 
There, on the banks of that bright river born. 
The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn, 
Blessed not the waters, as they murmured by, 
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
And virgin-glance of first affection cast 
Upon their youth's smooth current, as it passed ! 
But war disturbed this vision, — far away 
From her fond eyes summoned to join the' array 
Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace, 
The youth exchanged his sylvan dwelling-place 
For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash ; 
His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash 
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains 
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains. 

Month after month, in widowhood of soul 
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 
Their suns away — but, ah, how cold and dim 
Ev'n svmimer suns, when not beheld with him ! 
From time to time ill-omened rumors came, 
Like spirit-tongues, muttering the sick man's nanjt 



' The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains and run- 
ning nearly from east to west, splits into two branches ; one of vhich fall? 
into the Caspian Sea, and the other into Aral JNahr, or the Lake of Jixgles. 



VEILED PHOPHET OF KHOBASSAN. 37 

Just ere he dies ; — at length those sounds of dread 
Fell withering on her soul, "Azim is dead I'' 
O Grief, beyond aU other griefs, wlien fate 
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
In the wide world, without that only tie 
For which it loved to live or feared to die ; — 
Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spokea 
Since the sad day its master-chord was broken! 

Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, 
Ev"n reason sunk, — blighted beneath its touch; 
And though, ere long, her sanginne spirit rose 
Above the first dead pressure of its woes. 
Though health and bloom returned, the delicate chaui 
Of thought, once tangled, never cleared again. 
Warm, liv^ely, soft as m youth's happiest day, 
The mind was still all there, but turned astray; — 
A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone 
All stars of heaven, except the guidhig one ! 
Again she smiled, nay^ much and brightly smiled, 
But 'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 
And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, 
'Twas like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain, 
The bulbul ^ utters, ere her soul depai't. 
When, vanquished by some minstrers powerful art 
She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her heart ! 

Such was the mood in which that mission found 
Voung Zelica, — that mission, which aroumi 
The Eastern world, in every region blessed 
With woman's smile, sought out -.is loveliest, 

^ The nijhtiusale. 



38 LALLAROOKH. 

To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes 

Which the Veiled Prophet destined for the skies; — 

And such quick welcome as a spark receives 

Dropped on a bed of Autumn's withered leaves. 

Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 

In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. 

All fire at once the maddening zeal she caught; — 

Elect of Paradise ! blest, rapturous thought ' 

Predestined bride, in heaven's eternal dome^ 

Of some brave youth — ha ! durst they say " of some ? " 

No — of the one, one only object traced 

In her heart's core too deep to be effaced ; 

The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twinrd 

With every broken link of her lost mind ; 

Whose image lives, though Reason's self be wreck* .d 

Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect ! 

Alas, poor Zelica! it needed all 
The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall, 
To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
A sainted colony for Eden's shades ; 
Or dream that lie, — of whose unholy flame 
Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
With souls like thine, which he hath ruined here 
No— had not reason's light totally set, 
And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
In the loved image, graven on thy heart, 
Which would have saved thee from the tempter's ait 
And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath, 
That purity, whose fading is love's death! — 
But lost, inflamed, — a restless zeal took place 
Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace ; 



*^EILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 313 

First of the Prophet's favorites, proudly first 
In zeal and charms, — too well the' Impostor nursed 
Her soul's delirium, in whose active flame, 
Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame, 
He saw more potent sorceries to bind 
To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind. 
Mors subtle chains than hell itself e'er twined. 
No art was spared, no witchery; — all the skill 
His demons taught him was employed to fill 
Her mind with gloom and ecstasy by turns - 
That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns ; 
That ecstasy, which from the depth of sadness 
Glares like the maniac's moon, whose light is madness f 

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound 
Of poesy and music breathed around, 
Together picturing to her mind and ear 
The glories of that heaven, her destined sphere, 
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay 
Upon the spirit's light should pass away, 
And, realizing more than youthful love 
E'er wished or dreamed, she should forever rove 
Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side, 
His ow^n blessed, purified, eternal bride ! — 
'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this, 
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss. 
To the dim charnel-house; — through all its steams 
Of damp and death, led ouly by those gleams 
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
To show the gay and proud she too can shine — 
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead, 
Which to the maiden, doubly crazed by (h'ead, 



40 LALLAROOKH. 

Seemed, throi.^h the bluish death-light round theirj 

cast, 
To move their lips in mutterings as she passed — 
There, in that awful place, when each had quaffed 
And pledged in silence such a fearful draught. 
Such — O! the look and taste of that red bowl 
Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
By a dark oatli, in hell's own language framed. 
Never, while earth his mystic presence claimed, 
While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both, 
Ni'ver, by that all-imprecating oath, 
hi joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 
She swore, and the wide chaniel echoed, "Nav»^r, 

never ! " 

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
To him and — she believed, lost maid! — to heaven, 
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed, 
How proud she stood, when in full Haram named 
The Priestess of the Faith! — how flashed her eyes 
With light, alas ! that was not of the skies, 
Wlien round, in trances, only less than hers, 
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers 
Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
Had spells enough to make the world his own: — 
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play 
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray. 
When from its stem the small bird wings away ; 
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiled, 
The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 
As are the momentary meteors sent 
Across the' uncalm, but beauteous firmament. 



VEILEE PROPHET OF KH0RA£SAN. 41 

And then her look — O ! where's the heart so wise 
Could unbewildered meet those matchless eyes ? 
Q,uJck, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, 
Like tliose of angels, just before their fall ; 
Now shadowed with the shames of earth — now crossed 
By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost ; 
In ev^ery glance there broke, without control, 
The flashes of a bright but troubled soul, 
Where sensibility still wildly played. 
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! 

x\nd such was now young Zelica — so changej 
From her who, some years since, delighted ranged 
The almond groves that shade Bokhara's tide. 
All life and bliss, with Azim by her side ! 
So altered was she now, this festal day. 
When, 'mid the proud Divan's dazzling array, 
The vision of that Youth whom she had loved. 
Had wept as dead, before her breathed and moved ; — 
When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track 
But lialf-way trodden, he had wandered back 
Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light — 
Her beauteous Azi.m shone before her sight. 

O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew, 
When least we look for it, thy broken clew ! 
Through Avhat small vistas o"er the darkened brain 
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 
And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 
Unhoped-for entrance through some friend within 
One clear idea, wakened in the breast 
By memory's magic, lets in all the rest. 



42 LALLAROOKH. 

VV jiild it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee * 
But though light came, it came but partially; 
Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense 
Wandered about, — but not to guide it thence ; 
Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave. 
But not to point the harbor which might save. 
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind, 
With that dear form came rushing o'er her mir.d ; 
But O ! to think how deep her soul had gone 
In shame and falsehood since those moments shcne, 
And, then, her oath — there madness lay again, 
And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 
Of mental darkness, as if blessed to flee 
F^rom light, whose every glimpse was agony ! 
Yet, one relief this glance of former years 
Brought, mingled with its pain, — tears, floods of 

tears. 
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills. 
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost. 
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost 

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
Trembled with horror, when the summons came 
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she, 
And she, till now, had heard with ecstasy) 
To meet Mokanna at his place of prayer, 
A garden oratory, cool and fair, 
By the stream's side, where still at close of day 
The Prophet of the Veil retired to pray ; 
Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with one, 
One chosen nymph to share his orison. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 43 

Of late none found such favor in his sight 
A.S the young Priestess ; and though, since that nighf, 
Wlien the death-caverns echoed every tone 
Of the dire oath that made her all his own, 
The' Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize, 
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise. 
And nttered such unheavenly, monstrous things. 
As ev'n across the desperate wanderings 
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out. 
Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt; — 
Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow, 
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow 
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye concealed. 
Would soon, proud triumph ! be to her revealed. 
To her alone ; — and then the hope, most dear, 
Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire, 
Prom which the spirit would at last aspire, 
Ev'n purer than before, — as perfumes rise 
Thro' flame and smoke, most welcome to the skies--- 
And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace 
Should circle her in heaven, no darkening tiace 
Would on that bosom he once loved remain. 
But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! — 
These were the wildering dreams, whose cursed deceit 
Had chained her soul beneath the tempter's feet, 
And made her think ev'n damning falsehood sweet. 
But now that Shape, which had appalled her view 
That Semblance — O how terrible, if true ! — 
Which came across her frenzy's full career 
With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe, 
As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark, 
An isle of ice encounters some swift bark. 



44 LALLA ROOKH. 

A-iid, Startling all its wretches from their sleep, 
By one cold impulse hnrls them to the deep ; — 
So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear, 
And waking up each long-lulled image there, 
But checked her headlong soul, to sink it in despair ! 

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk. 
She now went slowly to that small kiosk, 
Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
iNloKANNA waited her — too wrapped in dreams 
Of the fair-ripening future's rich success, 
To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless, 
That sat upon his victim's downcast brow. 
Or mark how slow her step, how altered now 
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
Came like a spirit's o'er the' unechoing ground, — 
From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
Was thrilUno; fire, whose every thought a trance ! 

Upon his couch the Veiled Mokanna lay. 
While lamps around — not such as lend their ray, 
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray 
In holy KooM.^ or Mecca's dim arcades, — 
But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
Upon his mystic V^eil's white glittering flow. 
Beside him. 'stead of beads and books of prayer, 
Which the world fondly thought he mused on there 
Stood Vases, filled with Kishmee's'^ golden wine, 
And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; 

' The cities of Com (or Koora) and Cashan are full of mosques, maaso- 
leums. and sep>dlchres of the descendants of All, the Srants of Persia.— 
Chcrdin. 

2 An is md in the Persian Gulf, celebmted for its white wine. 



VEILED I R O P H E T OF K H O R A S S A N . 4;') 

Of which his ciirtanied lips full many a draught 

Took zealously, as if each drop they quaffed, 

Like Zemzeji's Spring of Holiness,^ had power 

To freshen the soul's virtues into floAver ! 

And still he drank and pondered — nor could see 

The' approaching maid, so deep his reverie ; 

At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke 

From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke : — 

" Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given, 

'* Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven; 

''God's images, forsooth; — such gods as he 

"Whom India serves, the monkey deity ; ^ — 

" Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, 

•' To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 

" Refused, though at the forfeit of heaven's light, 

"To bend in worship, Lucifer was right ! ^ — 

" Soon shall 1 plant this foot upon the neck 

*' Of your foul race, and without fear or check, 

" Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, 

'' My deep-ff^lt, long-nursed loathing of man's name ! — 



• The mirac'v'ous well at Mecca ; so called, says Sale, from the murmur- 
inn of its watPis. 

2 The god Hannaman. — " Apes are in many parts of India highly ven- 
erated, out of respect to the (lod Hannaman, a deity partaking of the fonj 
of that race.' — Pennant's Hindoostan. 

See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn embassy from 
some part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portuguese were there, offering 
vast treasures for the recovery of a monkey's tooth, which they held in 
CTeat veneration, and which had been taken away upon the conquest of the 
kingdom of Jafinapatan. 

3 This resolution of Kblis not to acknowledge the new creature, man, 
was, according to Mahometan tradition, thus adopted: — '-The earth 
(which God had selected for the materials of his work) was carried into 
Arabia to a place between Mecca and Tayef. where, being first kneaded bj 
the a-inrels, it was afterwards fashioned by God himself into a human form, 
and left to drv for the space of forty days, or, as others say, as n any years 5 
riie ansrels. in the mean time, often visiting it. and Kblis (then one of the 
angels nearest to Goil's presence, afterwards the devil) amontr the rest • but 
he, not contented with looking at it, kicked it with his foot till it rung j and 
knowing God designed that creature to be his superior, took a secret rcsc» 

ution never to acknowledge him as such " — Sale, on the Korsui 



46 L.ALLAROOKH. 

' Soon at the head of myriads, bhnd and fierce 
" As hooaed falcons, through the universe 
" I'll sweep my darkening, desolating way, 
"Weak man my instrument, curs'd man my prey! 

" Ye wise, ye learned, who grope your dull way or 
''By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, 
" Like superstitious thieves, who think the light 
" From dead men's marrow guides them best at 

night ^ — 
" Ye shall have honors — wealth, — yes. Sages, yes, — 
" I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness ; 
" Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, 
" But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. 
" How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, 
" In lying speech, and still more lying song, 
*' By these learned slaves, the meanest of the throng , 
'' Tiieir wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, 
" A sceptre's puny point can wield it all ! 

'' Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, 
'' Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; 
" Who, bolder ev'n than Nemrod, think to rise, 
'' By nonsense heaped on nonsense, to the skies ; 
" Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too, 
*' Seen, heard, attested, every thing, — but true. 
" Your preaching zealots, too inspired to seek 
" One grace of meaning for the things they speak , 
" Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, 
" For truths too heavenly to be understood ; 



' A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Glory 
Ihe candle for which was made of the fat of a dead malefactor. This, how 
ever, was rather a western than an eastern superstition. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASbAN. 47 

'And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore^ 
'That works salvation; — as, on Ava's shore, 

* Where none hut priests are privileged to trade 

' In that best marble of which Gods are made ; ^ 
'They shall have mysteries — ay, precious stuff 

* For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough; 

' Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave 

' Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, 

'While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 

' A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust, — 

'A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must: 

' That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, 

' Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all , 

' Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, 

' And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. 

'Vain things! — as lust or vanity inspires, 

' The heaven of each is but what each desires, 

' And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, 

' Man would be man to all eternity ! 

'So Jet him — Eblis ! grant this crowning curse, 

'Bat keep him what he is, no Hell were worse.' 

" O my lost soul ! " exclaimed the shuddering maid^ 
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said : — 
MoKANNA started — not abashed, afraid, — 
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles ! 
But, in those dismal words that reached his ear, 
" O my lost soul ! " there was a sound so drear, 



' The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) are made 
is held sacred. " Birmans may not purchase t!ie marble in mass, but are 
suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready made/ 
— ISi meo's Ava, vol. ii. p. 37b. 



48 L. A L I. A K O O K H 

So ike that voice, among the sinful dead. 
In which the legend o'er HeU"s Gate is read. 
That, new as 'twas from her, vvhom nought could dim 
Or sinlv till now, it startled even him. 

'•'Ha, my fair Priestess! " — thus, with ready wile, 
The' Impostor turned to greet her — " thou, whose smile 
" Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 
' Beyond the' Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream 
''' Li^ht of the Faith ! who twin'st reliction's zeal 
" So close with love's, men know not which they feel, 
"Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart 
'• The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art I 
"What should I be without thee? without thee 
" How dull were power, how joyless victory ! 
" Though borne by angels, if that smile of thint- 
'• Blessed not my banner, 'twere but half divine. 
"But — why so mournful, child? those eyes, tliai 

shone 
"All life last night — what! — is then- glory gone? 
" Come, come — this morn's fatigue hath made them 

pale, 
" They want rekindling — suns themselves woidd fa'] 
" Did not their comets bring, as 1 to thee, 
"From light's own fount supplies of brilliancy. 
"Thou seest this cup — no juice of earth is hero, 
" But the pure waters of that upper sphere, 
"Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow, 
" Catching the gem's bright color, as they go 
''Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns — 
"Nay, drink — in every drop life's essence burns: 
" 'Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light 
** Come, come., I want thy lovehest smiles to-night 



VEILED PROPHET OF KH0RAi5SAN. 4J) 

'There is a youth — why start? — thou saw'st hhn 

then ; 
" Looked he not nobly ? such the godlike men 
" Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above ; — 
" Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, 
" Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss 
"The world calls virtue — -we must conquer this; 
" Nay, shrink not, pretty sage ! 'tis not for thee 
" To scan the mazes of heaven's mystery • 
" The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield 
" Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield, 
" This very night I mean to try the art 
" Of powerful beanty on that warrior's heart. 
" All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, 
" Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, 
•' Shall tempt the boy; — young Mirzala's blue eyes, 
" Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; 
" Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 
'' And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 
"Have magic in their pressure; Zeba's lute, 
" And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot 
"Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep — 
" All shall combine their witching powers to steep 
" My convert's spirit in that softening trance, 
" From which to heaven is but the next advance ; — 
" That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, 
" On wliich Religion stamps her miage best. 
■' But hear me. Priestess ! — tho' f.ach nymph of these 
'' Hath some peculiar, practised power to please, 
" Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, 
'* First charms herself, then all the world beside ; 
" There still wants one, to make the victory sure. 
' One who in every look joins every lure ; 
5 



50 LALLAROOKH. 

" Through whom all beauty's beams concentred pass, 
'' Dazzlmg and warm, as through love's burning glass; 
'' Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 
" Whose words, ev'n when unmeaning, are adored 
" Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 
'' Which our faith takes for granted are divine ! 
•' Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light, 
" To crown the rich temptations of to-night ; 
" Such the refined enchantress that must be 
"This hero's vanquisher, — and thou art she!" 

With her hands clasped, her lips apart and pale, 
The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 
From which these words, like south winds through a 

fence 
Of Kerzrah flowers, came filled with pestilence ; ^ 
So boldly uttered too ! as if all dread 
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled, 
And the wretch felt assured that, once plunged in. 
Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin ! 

At first, though mute she listened, like a dream 
Seemed all he said : nor could her mind, whose beam 
As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 
But when, at length, he uttered, " Thou art she ! " 
All flashed at once, and shrieking piteously, 
" O, not for worlds ! " she cried — " Great God ! to whom 
"I once knelt innocent, is this my doom? 
*^Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bhss, 
" My purity, my pride, then come to this, — 



• " It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the hot south 
wind, which in June or July passes over that flower, (the Kerzereh,) it wiL 
kill him." — Thevenot 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 51 

** To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be 

"The pander of his guilt — O infamy! 

■^ And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep 

■'In its hot flood, drag others down as deep! 

" Others — ha! yes — that youth who came to-day — 

" Not him I loved — not him — O ! do but say, 

" But swear to me this moment 'tis not he, 

" And I will serve, dark fiend, will worship even thee ! " 

"Beware, young raving thing! — in time bewaie, 
"Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear, 
" Ev'n from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy voict" ; 
"The boy must feel theu magic; — I rejoice 
" To see those fires, no matter whence they rise 
'' Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes ; 
"And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shyll 

warm, 
" Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form, 
" So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom. 
" As one warm lover, full of life and bloom, 
" Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. 
"Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet; — those eyes wer? 

made 
"For love, not anger — I mast be obeyed." 

"Obeyed? — 'tis well — yes, I deserve it all — 
'* On me, on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall 
"Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true 
" And beautiful — must he be ruined too ? 
''■ Must he too, glorious as he is, be driven 
* A renegade like me from Love and Heaven ? 
'•' Like me ? — weak wretch, I wrong him — not like me 
'No — he/s all truth and strength and purity! 



52 LALLAROOKH. 

' Fill up your maddening hiill-cup to the brim, 
' Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him 
' Let loose your glowing wantons from their boAvers, 
' He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers ! 
' VYretch as I am, in his heart still I reign 
' Pure as when first we met. without a stain ! 
' Though ruined — lost — my memory, like a charm 
' Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. 
' O ! never let him know how deep the brow 
' He kissed at parting is dishonored now ; — 
' Ne'er tell hmi how debased, how sunk is she, 

• Whom once he loved — once ! — still loves dotingly. 
'Thou laugh'st, tormentor, — what! — thou'lt brand 

my name ? 
'Do, do — in vain — he'll not believe my shame — 
'He thmks me true, that nought beneath God's 

sky 

* Could tempt or change me, and — so once thought I. 
'But this is past — though worse than death my lot, 

' Than hell — 'tis nothhig while lie knows it not. 

' Far off to some benighted land I'll fly, 

' Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die ; 

' Where none will ask the lost one whence she came, 

'But I may fade and fall without a name. 

'And thou — curs'd man or fiend, whate'er thou art, 

' Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart, 

' And spread'st it — O, so quick ! — through soul 

and frame, 
'With more than demon's art, till I became 
' A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame ! — 

'If, when I'm gone " 

" Hold, fearless maniac, hold 
"Nor tempt my rage — by Heaven, not half so bold 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 5J3 

' The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum 
' Within the crocodile's stretched jaws to come ! ^ 
'And so thou'lt fly, forsooth? — what ! — give up all 
' Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, 
'Where now to Love and now to Alla given, 
" Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even 
"As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heaven! 
"Thou'lt fly? — as easily may reptiles run, 
" The gaunt snake once hath fixed his eyes upon ; 
" As easily, when caught, the prey may be 
" Plucked from his loving folds, as thou from me. 
•'No, no, 'tis fixed — let good or ill betide, 
" Thou'rt mine till death, till death Mokanna's bride ! 
''Hast thou forgot thy oath?" — 

At this dread word, 
The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirred 
Through all its 'depths, and roused an anger there. 
That burst and lightened ev'n through her despair, 
Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath 
That spoke that word, and staggered pale as death. 

" Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers 
'•Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours! 
'■^ Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
" Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality ; 
" Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were 

wed, 
" And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead 



' The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picking the 
':i()codile's teeth. The same circumstance is related of tlie lapwing, as a 
tiict to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas. Voyage fait en 17M-. 

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, entering 
»vith impunity into the moutii of the crocodile, is firmly believed at Java. — 
Uanow's Cockin-China. 



54 LALLAROOKH. 

'^ (Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt) 
' From reeking shrouds upon the rite looked out ! 
" That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine 

repeat — 
'• That cup — thou shudderest. Lady. — was it sweet ? 
'^ That cup we pledged, the charners choicest wine, 
" HLth bound thee — ay — body and soul all mine : 
" Bound thee by chains that, whether bless'd or curs'J 
''No matter now, not hell itself shall burst! 
"Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 
''Look wild, look — any thing but sad; yet stay — 
" One moment more — from what this night hath 

passed, 
''I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at last. 
'' Ha ! ha ! and so. fond thing, thou thought'st all true, 
''And that I love mankind? — I do, I do — 
•' As victims, love them ; as the sea-dog dotes 
"Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats; 
" Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
" That rank and venomous food on which she lives ! ^ — 



" And, now thou seest my soul's angelic hue, 
" 'Tis time these features were uncurtained too ; — 
"This brow, whose light — O rare celestial light! — 
" Hath been reserved to bless thy favored sight : 
" These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might 
'' Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake — 
' Would that they were heaven's lightnings for his 

sake I 
"But turn and look — then wonder, if thou wilt, 
" That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, 

1 Circum easdem ripas (Xili, viz.) ales est This. Ea seq^entium populatu 
3Ta, gratissimaiaque ex his escain nidis suis refert. — Solinus. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 55 

''' Upon the hand, w*hose mischief or whose mirth 
* Sent me thus maimed and monstrous upon earth ; 
' And on that race who, though more vile they be 

" Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me ! 

''Here — judge if hell, with all its power to damn, 

'•Can add one curse to the foul thing I am ! " — 

He raised his veil — the Maid turned slowly round 
Looked at him — shrieked — and smik upon the groimd ! 



56 LALLAROOKH. 



On tt eir arrival, next night, at the place of encamp- 
ment, they were surprised and delighted tr) find the 
grovres all around illuminated ; some artists ^f Yamt- 
cheou ' having been sent on previously for the purpose. 
On each side of the green alley, which led to the Roy- 
al Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work ^ were 
erected, representing arches, minarets and towers, from 
which hung thousands of silken lanterns, painted by 
the most delicate pencils of Canton. — Nothing could 
be more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees 
and acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo- 
scenery, which shed a lustre round as soft as that of 
the nights of Peristan. 

Lalla Rookh, however, who was too much occu- 
pied by tlxC sad story of Zelica and her lover, to give 
a thought to any thing else, except, perhaps, him who 
related it, hurried on through this scene of splendor 
to her pavilion, — greatly to the mortification of the 
poor artists of Yamtcheou, — and was followed with 
equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, as 
he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental anx- 
iety m lighting up the sliores of the lake, where his 
beloved daughter had wandered and been lost, was 
the origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations.'^ 

1 " The feast of Lanterns is celebrated at Yamtcheou with more mafinifi- 
cence than any where else ; and the report goes, that the illuminations 
there are so splendid, that an Emperor once, not daring openly to leave his 
Court to go thither, committed himself with the Queen and several Prin- 
cesses of his family into the hands of a magician, who promised to transport 
them thither in a trice. He made them in the night to ascend magnificent 
thrones that were borne up by swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamt- 
cheou. The Emperor saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried 
upon a cloud that hovered over the city and descended by degrees; and 
came back again with the same speed and equipage, nobody at court per- 
ceiving his absence." — Tlxe Present State of China, p. 156. 

2 See a description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the Asiatic AnnucA 
Register 0/1804. 

3 " The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened m the family of a 



LALLA ROOKH. 57 

Without a moment's delay, young Feramorz was 
introduced, and Fadladeen, who could never make 
up his mind as to the merits of a poet, till he knew 
the religious sect to which be belonged, was about to 
ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, when 
Lalla Rookh impatiently clapped her hands for si- 
lence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud 
near her, proceeded : — 

famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one evening upon the shore of a 
lal<e. fell in and was drowned ; this afflicted father, with his family, ran 
thither, and, the better to tind her, he caused a great company of lanterns tc 
be liiihted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged after hiin with torches 
'j'he year ensuing they made tires upon the shores the same day 5 they con- 
tinued the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lantern, and by do 
gices it commenced into a custom. ' — Present State of China 



58 LALLAROOKH. 



Prepare thy soul, young Azim! — thou hast braved 
The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved ; 
Hast faced her phalanx, armed with all its fame, 
Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame ; 
All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow ; 
But a more perilous trial waits thee noAv, — 
Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes 
From every land where woman smiles or sighs ; 
Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise 
His black or azure banner in their blaze ; 
And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 
That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash, 
To the sly, stealing splendors, almost hid, 
Like swords half-sheathed, beneath the downcast lid ; — 
Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host 
Now led against thee ; and, let conquerors boast 
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 
A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms, 
Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, 
Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights 
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ; — 
From room to room the ready handmaids hie, 
Some skilled to wreath the turban tastefully, 
Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade. 
O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid. 
Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, 
Like Sera's Q,ueen, could vanquish with that one : ^ — 

' "Thou hast ravished my h ;art with one of thine eyes."' — Sol. Soiif^ 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 6^ 

While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue 

The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue/ 

So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem 

Like tips of coral branches in the stream : 

And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, 

To give that long, dark languish to the eye,^ 

Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to 

cull 
From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful. 
All is in motion: — rings and plumes and pearls 
Are shining every where: — some younger girls 
Are gone by moonlight to the garden-beds, 
To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; — 
Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful, 'tis to see 
How each prefers a garland from that tree 
Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent 

day, 
And the dear fields and friendships far away. 
The maid of India, blessed again to hold 
In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold,*^ 
Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood, 
Her little playmates scattered many a bud 

1 " They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Henna, so that they 
resembled branches of coral." — Story of Prince Futtun in Bahardanush. 

2 " The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named 
the black Kohol." — Russcl. - 

"None of these ladies," says Shaw, " take themselves to be completely 
dressed, till they have tinged the hair and edges of their eyelids with the 
powder of lead ore. Now, as this operatioi; is performed by dipping first 
into the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a quill, and then 
drawing it afterwards through the eyelids over the ball of the eye, we shall 
have a lively image of what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to 
mean by reriding the eyes vnth painting. This practice is no doubt of great 
antiquity; for besides the instance already taken notice of, we find that 
where Jezebel is said (2 Kings, ix. 30) to have painted her face, the original 
words are, she adjusted her eyes with the powder of lead ore." — Shaw'n 
Travels. 

3 " The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colored Campac on the 
black hair of the Indian women lias supplied the Sanscrit Poets with rcaiiy 
'^lesant allusions." — See Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. 



60 LALLAROOKH. 

Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam 
Just dri])ping from the consecrated stream ; 
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell 
Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell, — 
The sweet Elcaya,^ and that courteous tree 
Which bows to all who seek its canopy,^ — 
Sees, called up round her by these magic scents, 
The well, the camels, and her father's tents; 
Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 
A.nd wishes ev'n its sorrows back again! 

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, 
Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls 
Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound 
From many a jasper fount, is heard around, 
Young AziM roams bewildered, — nor can guess 
What means this maze of light and loneliness. 
Here, the way leads, o'er tessellated floors 
Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 
Where, ranged in cassolets and silver urns, 
Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; 
And spicy rods, snch as illume at night 
The bowers of Tibet, ^ send forth odorous light, 
Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road 
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode : — 
And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon , 



^ A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills of Yemen. — 
Niebulir 

2 Of the genus mimosa, "which droops its branches whenever any person 
approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire under its shade." — 
Niebuhr. 

3 " Cloves are a pnncipal ingredient in the composition of the perfumed 
rods, which men of rank keep constantly burning in their presence.'' — 
Turner's Tibet. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 61 

Where, m the midst, reflecting back the rays 
111 broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
High as the' enamelled cupola, which towers 
A.11 rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers 
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through 
The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew 
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, 
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. 

Here too he traces the kind visitings 
Of woman's love in those fair, living things 
Of land and wave, whose fate — in bondage thrown 
For their weak loveliness — is like her own' 
On one side gleaming with a sudden graco 
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase 
In which it undulates, small fishes shine. 
Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; — 
While, on the other, latticed lightly in 
With odoriferous woods of Comorin/ 
Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; — 
Gay, sparlUing loories, such as gleam between 
The crimson blossoms of the coral-tree^ 
In the warm isles of India's sunny sea; 
Mecca's blue sacred pigeon,^ and the thrush 
Of Hindostan,"* whose holy warblings gush, 
At evening, from the tall pagoda's top ; — 
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop 



^ " C'est d'on vient le hois d'aloes. que les Arabes appellent Oud Comari, 
et celiii du sandal, qui s'y trouve en grande quantite." — D' Herbelot. 

2 " Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees." — Barroio. 

3 '• In Mecca there are quantities of blue pioreons. which none will affright 
or abuse, much less kill." — Pitt's Account of the Mahometans 

■* "The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of India 
It Bits perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence delivers its nvjlo 
dious song — PennanVs Hin ostan 



t)'2 LALLA ROOKH. 

About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food^ 
Whose scent hath hired them o'er the summer flood ;* 
And those that under Araby's soft sun 
Build their high nests of budding cnmamon ; ^ 
In short, all rare and beauteous things^ that fly 
Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
Sleeping in light, like the green birds'^ that dwell 
In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel ! 

So on, through scenes past all imagining, 
More like the luxuries of that impious king,^ 
Whom Death's dark Angel, with his lightning torch 
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasm'e's porch, 
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent. 
Armed with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchise- 
ment — 
Young AziM wandered, looking sternly round. 
His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound 
But ill according with the pomp and grace 
And silent lull of that voluptuous place. 

" Is this, then," thought the youth, '' is this the way 
" To free man's spirit from the deadening sway 
'Of worldly sloth, — to teach him, while he lives, 
^' To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, 

^ Tavernier adds, that while the Birds of Paradise lie in this intoxicated 
state, the emmets come and eat off their legs ; and that hence it is they are 
Baid to have no feet. 

2 Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights fronj 
the southern isles to India ; and •' the strength of the nutmeg," says leaver 
nier, " so intoxicates them that they faU dead drunk to the earth.'' 

3 '' That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with cinna- 
mon." — Brown's Vulgar Errors. 

* " The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green birds." 
— Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421. 

5 Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in imitation of F'ara- 
dise, and was destroyed by lightning thf firsf, time he ittempted to enter 
Lhem, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. G3 

" And when he dies, to leave his lofty name 
•'A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame? 
" It was not so, Land of the generous thought 
*' And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught ; 
•' It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 
" Thy Freedom nursed her sacred energies ; 
"O! not beneath the' enfeebling, withering glow 
" Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, 
" With which she wreathed her sword, when she 

would dare 
" Immortal deeds : but in the bracing air 
'• Of toil, — of temperance, — of that high, rare, 
" Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe 
" Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath. 
" Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, — 
'• This speck of life m time's great wilderness, 
" This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
"The past, the future, two eternities! — 
'•Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, 
"When he might build him a proud temple there 
"A name, that long shall hallow all its space, 
" And be each purer soul's high restins-place ? 
"But no — it cannot be, that one, whom God 
" Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, — 
" A Prophet of the truth, whose mission draws 
" [ts rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause 
" With the world's vulgar pomps ; — no, no. — I see — 
"He thinks me weak — this glare of luxmy 
" Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 
" Of my young soul — shine on, 'twill stand the blaze I " 

So thought the youth : — but, ev'n while he defied 
This witcl. in2^ scene, he lelt its Avitchery f^lidf' 



U4 L A L L A R O K H . 

Thro' every sense. The perfume breathing round 

Liike a pervadmg spirit; — the still sound 

Of falling waters, lulling as the song 

Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 

Around the fragrant Xilica, and deep 

In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ; ^ 

And music, too — dear music! that can touch 

Beyond all else the soul that loves it much- — 

Now heard far oif, so far as but to seem 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; — 

All was too much for him, too full of bliss ; 

The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this ; 

Softened, he sunk upon a couch, and gave 

His soul up to sweet thoughts, like— vv^ave on wave 

Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid : 

He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, 

And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, 

They sat and l(H')ked into each other's eyes, 

Silent and happy — as if God had given 

Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven 

'• O mv loved mistress, thou, whose spirit still 
""Is with me. round me. wander where I will — 
"It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
''The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek 

'With warm approval — in that gentle look, 
*' To read my praise, as in an angel's book, 
"And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 

'I gain a smile worth immortality! 



1 " Mv Pandits assure me that t'le plant before us (the Nilica) is thoir 
Sephilica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on i ^ bio? 
'oms " — •Sir W^. Jones 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. Ou 

" How shall I bear the moment, when restored 

■' To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 

'^Though of such bliss unworthy, — since the best 

" Alone deserve to be the happiest ; — 

*•' When from those lips, unbreathed upon for years, 

" I shall again kiss olf the soul-felt tears, 

'' And find those tears warm as when last they started, 

" Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted ! 

"O my own life! — why should a single day, 

''A moment keep me from those arms away?" 

While thus he thinks, still nearer, on the breeze. 
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies, 
Each note of which but adds new, downy links 
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 
He turns him toward the sound, and far away 
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play 
Of countless lamps, — like the rich track which Day 
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us. 
So long the path, its light so tremulous, — 
He sees a group of female forms advance, 
Some chained together in the mazy dance 
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers, 
As they were captives to the King of Flowers ; ^ 
And some disporting round, unlinked and free, 
Who seemed to mock their sisters' slavery ; 
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight 
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night ; 
While others waked, as gracefully along 
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song 



' " They deferred it till the King of Flowers sho ild ascend his throne *!/ 
"Tianielled foliage." — 77ie Bahardanu*h 

6* 



g6 LALLAROUKH. 

Fiona psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, 
O their own youthful voices, heavenlier stjll. 
And noTv they come, now pass before his eye, 
Forms such as -Sature moulds, when she would vie 
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things 
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. 
Awhile they dance before him, then divide, 
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 
Till, silently dispersing, one by one, 
Through many a path, that from the chamber leads 
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads. 
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, 
And but one trembling nymph remains behind, — 
Beckoning them back in vain, for they are gone, 
And she is left in all that light alone ; 
No veil to curtain o'er her oeauteous brow. 
In its young bashfalness more beauteous now ; 
But a light golden chain-work round her hair.* 
Such as the maids of Yezd'^ and Shiraz wear, 
From which, on either side, grzicefully hung 
A golden amulet, in the' Arab tongue. 
Engraven o'er with some inmiortal line 
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine : 
While her left hand, as shrin kingly she stood, 
Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, 
Which, once or twice, she touched with hurried strain. 
Then took her trembling fingers off again. 

• " One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a lighi 
golden chain -work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate pendant, 
tbo'jt the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian 
prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below th«» ear." — Hamcay'i 
Travels. 

' " Certainlj the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. 
The proverb is. thai to live happy a man mnsx. have a wife of Yezd, eat tb« 
iireau of Vezdf c»3 ird drink the wine of Shiraz " — Tavtmier. 



VKILED PROPHKT OF KHORASSAN. 67 

But when at length a timid glance she stole 

At AziM, the sweet gravity of soul 

She saw through all his features calmed her fear, 

And, like a half-tamed antelope, more near, 

Though shrinking still, she came ; — then sat her dowu 

Upon a musnud's ^ edge, and, bolder grown, 

In the pathetic mode of Isfahan^ 

Touched a preluding strain, and thus began : — 

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's^ stream, 
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; 

In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream^ 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 

That bower and its music I never forget, 

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, 

I think — Is the nightingale singing there yet? 
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer? 

No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave^ 
But some blossoms were gathered, while freshly 
they shone. 

And a dew was distilled from their flowers, that gave 
All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. 

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, 
An essence that breathes of it many a year ; 

Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, 
Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer ! 

' Musnuda are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of dis* 
Unction 

" The Persians, like the ancient (Jrecks, call their musical modes oj 
Perdas by the namen of ditierenl countries or cities, ad the mode of Islahan 
the mode of Irak. &-c. 

' A river which Hows near the rums of (Jhilminnr. 



08 LALLAROOKH. 

''Poor maiden! " thought the youth, "nthou wett 
sent, 
* With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment, 
'• To wake unholy wishes in this heart, 
" Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art. 
" For tliough thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, 
'' Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
"But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay 
" Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day. 
" And leads thy soul — if e'er it wandered thence — 
" So gently back to its first innocence, 
" That I would sooner stop the unchained dove, 
" When swift returning to its home of love, 
" And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, 
"Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!" 

Scarce had this feeling passed, when, sparkling 
through 
The gently opened curtains of light blue 
That veiled the breezy casement, countless eyes. 
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, 
Looked laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
That sat so still and melancholy there : — 
And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine 
Which those without fling after them in play. 
Two lightsome maidens spring, — lightsome as they 
Who live in the' air on odors, — and around 
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the groui d 
Chase one another, in a varying dance 
Of mirth and langiior, coyness and advance. 
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit : — 
While she, who sung so gently to the lute 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 60 

Her dream of home, steals timidly away, 
Shrinking as violets do ii] summer's ray, — 
But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain, 
Creatures of light we never see again ! 

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced 
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced 
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er 
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ; ^ 
While from their long, dark tresses, m a fall 
Of curls descending, bells as musical 
As those that, on the golden-shafted trees 
Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze,^ 
Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, 
As 'twere the' ecstatic language of their feet. 
At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreatiied 
Within each other's arms ; while soft there breathed 
Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs 
Of moonlight flowers, music that seemed to rise 
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose ; 
And, as it swelled again at each faint close, 
The ear could track through all that maze of chords 
And young sweet voices, these impassioned words: — 



A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 
Is burning now through earth and air ; 



' ''To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badkuj was a 
mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-<rlass and 
crystals with which it abounds." — Journey of the Rtissian Ambatssador to 
Persia, MAfS. 

3 "To which will be added the sound of the bells, hanging on tho trees 



70 LALLARDOKH. 

Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh 
Where lips are meeting, the Spnit is there ! 

His breath is the soul of flowers like these, 
And his floating eyes — O! they resemble ^ 

f?hie water-lilies,^ when t?ie breeze 

Is making the stream around them tremble. 

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! 

Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss I 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonli2;ht so sweet as this. 



'=)' 



By the fair and brave 
Who bhishing unite, 

Lilce the sun and wave, 
When they meet at night 



By the tear that shows 
Wlien passion is nigh, 

As the rain-drop flows 

From the heat of the sky ; 

By the first love-beat 
Of the youthful heart. 

By the bliss to meet, 

And the jvain to part; — 



which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, 
as often as the blessed wish for music." — t^ah. 

^ " Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated by the 
breeze." — Jayiidtva. 

' The blue loios, which grows in Cashmere nd in Persia. 



VEII-ED PROPHET OF KHORjlSSAN. 71 

By all that thou hast 

To mortals given, 
Which — O, could it last, 

This earth were heaven ! 

vVe call thee hither, entrancing Power! 

Spirit of Love! Spirit of BJiss! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 



Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole, 
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul. 
And where, midst all that the young heart loves most; 
Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost, 
The youth had started np, and turned aAvay 
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay, 
To muse upon the pictures that hung round,^ — 
Bright images, that spoke without a sound, 
And views, like vistas into fairy ground. 
But here again new spells came o'er his sense: — 
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence 
Could call up into life, of soft and fair, 
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there ; 
Nor yet too w^arm, but touched with that fine art 
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 
Which knows ev'n Beauty when half-veiled is best, — 
Like her own radiant planet of the west, 
Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest.- 

' It h.x3 been genenilly supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pic 
tures of animals ; but Toderini shows that, thoush the practice is forbidden 
by the Koran, thev are not more averse to painted Hiriires and iniaaes Itian 
other people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the .\rabs of 
Spain had no objection to the introduction of figures into painting. 

' This is not quite astronon ically true. " Dr. Hadley (say? Keil) baa 



IZ LALLAROOKR. 

There hung the history of the Genii-King, 
Traced through each gay, vohiptnous wandering 
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright eye 
He read that to be blessed is to be wise ; ^ — 
Here fond Zuleika^ wooes with open arms 
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her yc ung charir.i^ 
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone. 
Wishes that heaven and she could both be won ; 
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile, 
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile ; — 
Then beckons some kind angel from above 
With a new text to consecrate their love."^ 

With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye. 
Did the youth pass these pictured stories by, 
And hastened to a casement, where the light 
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 
As if no life remained in breeze or rill. 



shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty decrees removed 
from the sun ; and that then but only a fourth part of her lucid disk is to be 
seen from the earth." 

• P'or the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the 
whole race of (ienii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba, or Saba, see D'Her- 
belot. and the Notes on the Koran, chap. 2. 

'' In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against the arrival of 
the Queen of Saba, the floor or pavement was of transparent glass, laid over 
running water, in which fish were swimming." This led the Queen into a 
very natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought beneath its dignity 
to commemorate. " It was said unto her, ' Enter the palace.' And when 
she saw it she imagined it to be a great water; and she discovered her legs 
by lifting up her robe to pass through it. Whereupon Solomon said to her, 
'Verily, this is the place evenly floored with glass.' '' — Chap. 27. 

2 The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. 

'' The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for her young 
Hebrew slave has given rise to a much esteemed poem in the Persian Ian 
guage, entitled Yusef van Zelikha, by Noureddin Jami ; the manuscript 
copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at O.xford, is supposed to be the 
finest ip the whole world." — Note upon Notfs Translation of Hafez. 

^ Thu p; rticulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Coptic srirl, in jus- 
tific:itinn o' which he added a new chapter to tU*' Koran, may be found ir 
Uaemxer H fS'ote.f upon AbvlJ'eda, p. 151 



VEILED PROPHET OF KIIORASSAN. 7i3 

Here paused he, while the music, now less near, 
Breathed with a holier language on his ear. 
As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
Through which the sounds came floating, took away 
All that had been too earthly in the lay. 

O ! could he listen to such sounds unmoved, 
And by that light — nor dream of her he loved ? 
Dream on, unconscious boy ! while yet thou may"st 
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart. 
Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. 
Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them la^t, 
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast ; 
Recall her tears, to thee at parting given, 
Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in heaven. 
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee noWj 
VYith the same glow of heart and bloom of brow. 
Yet shrined in solitude — thine all, thine only, 
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. 
O that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed, 
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed ! 

The song is hushed, the laughing nymphs are flown^ 
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ; — 
Alone? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh. 
That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh — 
Whose could it be? — alas! is misery found 
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground? 
He turns, and sees a female form, close veiled. 
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had failed, 
Against a pillar near; — not glittering o'er 
With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore 



74 I. A L L A R O O K H . 

But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,^ 

Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness 

Of friends or kindred, dead or far away ; — 

And such as Zelica had on that day 

He left her — when, with heart too full to speak, 

He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek 

A strange emotion stirs within him, — more 
Than mere compassion ever waked before ; 
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
Springs forward, as with life's last energy. 
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, 
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground ; — 
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his knees — 
'Tis she herself! — 'tis Zelica he sees! 
But, ah, so pale, so changed — none but a lover 
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover 
The once adored divinity — even he 
Stood for some moments mute, and doubt ingly 
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed 
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blazed, 
Ere he could think she was indeed his own. 
Own darling maid, whom he so long had known 
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 
Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest — when loath 
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-floAver,^ 
When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. 



* " Deep blue is tlieir mourning color.' — Hanway. 

* The sorrowful nyctanllies, which begins to spread its rich odor aftci 
Bunsct. 



A 



i^EILED PROF^HET OF KHORASSAN. 75 

'•Look lip, my Zeltca — one moment show 
* Those gentle jyes to me, that I may know 
' Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, 
•' But tliere, at least, shines as it ever shone. 
''Come, look upon thy Azim — one dear glance, 
"Like those of old, were heav^en ! whatever chance 
" Hath brought thee here, O, 'twas a blessed one ! 
"There — my lov^ed lips — they move — that kiss 

hath run 
•' Like the first shoot of life through every vein, 
'And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. 
"O the delight — now, in this very hour, 
" When, had the whole rich world been in my power, 
" I should have singled out thee, only thee, 
" From the whole world's collected treasury — 
"To have thee here — to hang thus fondly o'er 
"My own, best, purest Zelica once more!" 

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips 
L'pon her eyes that chased their short eclipse, 
And, gradual as the snow, at heaven's breath, 
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, 
Jler lids unclosed, and the bright eyes were seen 
Gazing on his — not, as they late had been, 
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene ; 
As if to lie, ev'n for that tranced minute, 
So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 
And thus to wake in his beloved caress 
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 
1^1" t, when she heard him call her good and pure,. 
O, 'twas too much — too dreadful to endure! 
Sluiddering she broke away from his embrace^ 
.•Vnd-, hiding with both hands her guilty face, 



76 liALLAROOKH. 

Said, in a tone whose anguish would hav3 riven 
A. heart of very marble, " Pure ! — heaven ! " 

That tone — those looks so changed — the wither- 
ing blight, 
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light; 
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, 
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, 
He would have seen himself, too happy boy, 
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ; 
And then the place, — that bright, unholy place, 
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
And cbirm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
Its wily CO Tering of sweet balsam leavesj — 
All struck upon his heart, sudden an.d cold 
As death itself; — it needs not to be told — 
No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 
Of burning shame can mark — whate'er the hand. 
That could from heaven and him such brightness 

sever, 
'Tis done — to heaven and him she's lost forever! 
It was a dreadful moment : not the tears. 



The lingering, lasting misery of years 

Could match that minute's anguish — all the worjjt 

Of sorroAv's elements in that dark burst 

Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of fate 

Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. 

** O ! curse me not," she cried, as wild he tossed 
His desperate hand towards heaven — "tho' I am lost, 



J " Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent arriong the 
bnlsam-trecs. I mnde very particular inquiry 5 several were brought me 
RJive both to Vambo and Jidda." — Bruce 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 7 "7 

''Think not that guilt, that falsehood made mo f a 1 , 

''No, no — 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all! 

''Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love haili 

ceased — 

"I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least, 

" That every spark of reason's light must be 

" Gluenched in this brain, ere 1 could stray from thee. 

"They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, wh}' 

" Did we not, both of us, that instant die 

" When we were parted ? O ! could'st thou but know 

" With what a deep devotedness of woe 

'•' I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again 

" Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 

" And memory, like a drop that, night and day, 

" Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. 

" Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home. 

'• My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come, 

" And, all the long, long night of hope aiid feai', 

'Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear — 

'O God! thon would'st not wonder that, at last, 

" When every hope was all at once o'ercast, 

" When I heard frightful voices round me say 

^^ Azim is dead! — this wretched brain gave way, 

' And I became a wreck, at random driven, 

"Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven — 

"All wild — and even this quenchless love withm 

" Turned to foul fires to light me into sin : — 

" Thou pitiest me — I knew thou would'st — thai sky 

" Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 

"The fiend, who lured me hither — hist! come near 

"Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear — 

' Told me such things — O! with such devilish art, 

"As would have ruined ev'ti a holier heart — 
7* 



•^8 LALIjAROOKH. 

" Of thee, aud of that ever-radiant sphere, 
" Wh(ire blessed at length, if I but served hUn here, 
'• I sliou d forever hve in thy dear sight, 
'And dvnk from those pure eyes eternal light. 
" Think, think how lost, how maddened I must te, 
" To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee ! 
"Thou weep'st for me — do weep — O that I durst 
" Kiss off that tear ! but, no — these lips are curs'd ; * 
"They must not touch thee: — one divine caress, 
" One blessed moment of forgetfiilness 
" I've had within those arms, and that shall lie, 
" Shrined in my soul's deep memory till I die ; 
" The last of joy's last relics here below, 
" The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, 
" My heart has treasured from affection's spring, 
" To soothe and cool its deadly withering ! 
"But thou — yes, thou must go — forever go; 
"This place is not for thee — for thee! O, no; 
" Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain 
" Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again ! 
"Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once 

good, 
" Now tainted, chilled, and broken, are his food. — 
"Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
"A flood of headlong fate between our souls, 
" Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
" As hell from heaven, to all eternity ! " 

" Zelica, Zelica!" the youth exclaimed, 
In all the tortures of a mind inflamed 
Almost to madness — "by that sacred heaven, 
"' Where yet, if prayers can move, thou'lt be forgiven 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 79 

* As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart, 
' All sinful, wild, and ruiiied as thou art ! — 
' By the remembrance of our once pure love, 
^ Which, like a churchyard light, sfill burns above 
' The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee 
' Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me ! — 
' I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence : 
' If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, 

'Fly with me from this place ^' 

" With thee ! O bliss ! 
' 'Tis worth v/hole yeai's of torment to hear this. 
'What! take the lost one with thee? — let her rove 
' By thy dear side, as in those days of love, 
' When we were both so happy, both so pure — 
' Too heavenly dream ! if there's on earth a cure 
' For the sunk heart, 'tis this — day after day 
' To be the blest companion of thy way ; 
'To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
' Those virtuous eyes forever turned on me ; 
' And, in their light re-chastened silently, 
' Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, 
' Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! 
'And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt: 
'At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt 
'Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt hit thine eyes, 
' Full of sweet tears, unto the darkening skies, 
' And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare 
' To fix my own weak, sinful glances there ; 
' Till the good angels, when they see me cling 
' Forever near thee, pale and sorrowing, 
' Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven, 
'And bid thee take thy weeping slave to heaven! 



SC L A L L A R O O K H . 

"O yes, I'll fly with thee " 

Scaice had s.ie said 
These breathless words, w^hen a voice deep and dread 
As that of MoNKER. wakni"- nn the dead 
From their first sleep — so startlins 'twas to both — 
Rung through the casement near, " Thy oath ! thv 

oath ! " 
O Heaven, the ghastliness of tliat Maid's look! — 
'' 'Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook 
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes, 
Though through the casement, now, nought but 

the skies 
And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before — 
' 'I'is he. and I am his — all, all is o'er! 
'Go — fly this instant, or thou'rt ruined too — 
' My oath, my oath, O God ! 'tis all too true, 
' True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
'I am Mokanna's bride — his. Azim, his — 
' The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow, 
' Their blue lips echoed it — I hear them now ! 
' Their eyes glared on me, while I pledged that 

bowl — 
' 'Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul! 
' And the Veiled Bridegroom — hist ! I've seen to-night 
'What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 
' So horrible — O ! never may'st thou see 
' What tliCTc lies hid from all but hell and me ! 
'But I must hence — Off, off — I am not thine. 
'Nor Heaven's, nor Love's, nor aught that is divine- 
'Hold me not — Ha! think'st thou the fiends that 

sever 
•'Hearts, cannot sunder hands? — Thus, then — for- 
e\'er! " 




" Scarce had she said 
These breathless words, when a voice deep and dread 
As that of Monkcr, waking up the dead." 

Page 80. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASS^N. 81 

With all that strength which madness lends the 
weak, 
She filing away his arm. and, with a shriek, 
Whose sound, though he should linger out more yeai'S 
Than wretch e'er told, can never l^ave his ears — 
Flew up through that long avenue of light, 
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night, 
A.cross th€ sun, and soon was out of sight ! 



88 LALLA ROOKH. 



L.u-LA RooKH couJd think of nothing al iay but 
the misery of these tT\-o young lovers. Her gayety 
was gone, and she looked pensively even upon Fad- 
LADEEN. She felt; too, without knovring why, a sort 
of uneasy pleasure in irnaginnig that Azim must have 
been just such a youth as Fera3iorz ; just as worthy 
to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, 
of that illusive passion, which too often, like the 
simny apples of Istkahar,^ is all sweetuess on one 
side, and all bitterness on the other. 

As they passed along a sequestered river after sun- 
set, they saw a yomig Hindoo girl upon the bank.- 
whose employment seemed to them so strange, that 
they stopped then* palankeens to observe her. She 
had lighted a small lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, 
and, placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a 
wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling 
hand to the stream; and was now anxiously watch- 
ing its progress down the current, heedless of the gay 
cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. Lalla 
RooKH was all curiosity ; — when one of her at- 
tendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Gan- 
ges, (where this ceremony is so frequent, that often, 
in the dusk of the evening, the river is seen glitter- 
ing all over with lights, like the Oton-tala or Sea of 
Stars.'^) informed the Princess that it was the usual 
wav in which the friends of those who had sone on 



1 " In the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of which is 
Bweet and half sour." — Ebn Haukal. 

* For an account of this ceremony, see Grandprfs Voyage in the Indian 
Ocean. 

3 " The place where the VMiangho, a rirer of Tibet, rises, ind where 
there arc more than a hundred springs, which sparkle like stars ; whence it 
IS called H ^tim-nor, that is, the Set of Stars." — Descripiiof of Tibet in 
Pinkerion 



L A L L A R O O K H . 83 

dangerous voyages offered up vows fcr their safo 
return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen 
was disastrous ; but if it went shining down the 
stream, and continued to burn till entirely out of 
sight, the return of the beloved object was con- 
sidered as certain. 

Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than once 
looked back, to observe how the young Hmdoo's lamp 
proceeded ; and, while she saw with pleasure that ii 
was still unextinguished, she could not help fearmg 
that all the hopes of this life were no better than 
that feeble light upon the river. The remainder of 
the journey was passed in silence. She now, for 
the first time, felt that shade of melancholy, which 
comes over the youthful maiden's heart, as sweet 
and transient as her own breath upon a mirror ; nor 
was it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, touched 
lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she waked 
from the reverie in which she had been wandering. 
Instantly her eyes were lighted up with pleasure ; 
and, after a few unheard remarks from Fadladeen 
upon the indecorum of a poet seating himself in 
presence of a Princess, every thing was arranged as 
on the preceding evening, and all listened with eager- 
ness, while the story was thus continued : — 



84 LALLAROOKH 



Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way 
Where all was waste and silent yesterday ? 
This City of War which, in a few short hours, 
llath sprung up here.^ as if the magic powers 
Of Him who. in the twinkling of a star. 
Built the high pillared halls of CHiL^nxAR.^ 
Had conjured up, far as the eye can see, 
Tliis world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright 

armory : — 
Princely pavilions, screened by many a fold 
Of crimson cloth, and topped with balls of gold : — 
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 
Their chains and poitrels glittering in the smi : 
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells.'^ 
Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells I 

^ •• The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regiilar town, into 
sqaares, aUeys. and streets, and from a rising ground f'imishes cne of the 
most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a few hours in an 
uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even 
those who leave thtir houses in cities to follow the prince in his progress, 
are frequently so charmed with the Lescar. when situated in a beautiful and 
convenient place, that thev cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To 
prevent this mconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient time 
is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out of their 
tents.' — Dole's Hindostan. 

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encampment : — " His 
CainD. like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a motley collection of 
covers fium the scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated according to 
the ta^te or means of each individual, by extensive enclosures of colored 
calico surrounding superb suites of tents ; by ragged cloths or blankets 
stretched over sticks or branches ; palm leaves hastily spread over similai 
supports: handsome tents and splendid canopies; horses, oxen, elephants, 
and camels ; all intermixed without any exterior mark of order or design, 
except the flags of the chiefs, which usually mark the centres of a congeries 
of these masses ; the only regular part of the encampment being the streets 
of shops, each of which is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an 
English fair."' — Historical Sketches of the tSouih of India. 

• Thf- edifices of Chilminar and Baibec are supposed to have been buili 
by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the 
world long before the time of Adam. 

■* '•' \ superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small shells.-' — 
dh liev 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 85 

But yester-eve, so motionless around, 
S ) mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
But tlie far torrent, or the locust bird ^ 
Hunting among the thickets, could be heard; — 
Yin hark ! wliat discords now, of every kind. 
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the whid ; 
The neigh of cavalry; — the tinkling throngs 
Of laden camels and their driver's songs ;'2 — 
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — 
War-music, bursting out from time to time, 
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime ; — 
Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, 
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute, 
That far ofl", broken by the eagle note 
Of the" Abyssinian trumpet,^ swell and float. 

Who leads this mighty army ? — ask ye "who?*' 
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, 
The Night and Shadow, "* over yonder tent? — 
It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, 
That hoiurly came, of the false Prophet's arms, 



' A native of Khorassan. and allured soutlnvard by means of the water of 
a fountain hetAveen Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of 
which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried. 

2 " Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and some about 
their legs, like those which our carriers put about their fore-horses' necks, 
which, toirether with the servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on 
foot) sincrins all nisht, make a pleasant noise, and the journey passes away 
delightfully." — Pitt's Account of the Mahometans. 

" The camel-driver follows the camels sin<Tinsr, and sometimes playing 
upon his pipe ; the louder he sincfs and pipes, the faster the camels go 
Nay, they will stand still when he gives over his music." — Tavemier. 

3 "This trumpet is oflen called, in Abyssinia, nesser cano, which signifies 
tho Xote of the Eagle." — IVote of Bntce's Editor. 

* The two black standards borne before the Calinhs of the House of 
Abbas were called, all*?gorically, The JN^igit 'iid The Shadow. - Seo 
Gibbon. 



8n LALLAROOKH. 

An J of liis liost of infidels, who hurled 
Defiance fierce at Islam, ^ and the world, — 
Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined, 
Yet brooked he not such blasphemy should stain, 
Thus unrevenged, tlie evening of his reign ; 
But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave ^ 
To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, 
And with an army nursed in victories, 
Here stands to crush the rebels tliat o'errun 
His Jblest and beauteous Province of the Sun. 

Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display 
Such pomp before ; — not ev'n when on his wa/ 
To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea 
Were spoiled to feed the Pilgrim's luxury : "^ 
When round him, mid the burning sands, he saw 
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw. 
And cooled his thirsty lip, beneath the glaw 
Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow : "^ — 
Nor e'er did armament more grand than that 
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. 
First, in the van, the People of the Rock,^ 
Oil their light mountain steeds, of royal stock ; ^ 

' The Mahometan religion. 

* " The Persians swear bv the Tomb of Shah Besade, who is buried at 
{'asbin 5 and when one desires another to asseverate a matter, he will ask 
hiin if he dare swear by the Holy Grave." — Struy. 

^ Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars 
of gold. 

■* Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro visam. — 
Abidfedj.. 

' The inhabitants ot Hejaz or Arabia Fetrsa, called by an Eastern writer 
"The People of the Rock." — A'6n Huukal. 

^ " Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of whom a written 
genealogy has been kept for 2000 years. They are said to derive theii 
on^in from Kins Solomon's steeds " — I\'iebuhr. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 87 

Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
The tlashing of their swords' rich marquetry ; ^ 
Men from the regions near the Volga's mouth, 
Mixed with the rude, black archers of the South; 
And Indian lancers, in white-turbaned ranks, 
F^rom the far Slnde, or Attock's sacred banks, 
With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh,^ 
And many a mace-armed Moor, and Mid-sea islander. 

Nor less in number. thou2:h more new and rude 
In warfare's school, was the vast multitude 
That, fired by zeal, or by oppression wronged, 
Round the white standard of the' Impostor thronged 
Beside his thousands of Believers — blind. 
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind — 
Many who felt, and more who feared to feel 
The bloody Islamite's converting steel, 
Flocked to his banner; — Chiefs of the' Uzbek race, 
Waving their heron crests with martial grace ; -"^ 
Turkomans, countless as their docks, led forth 
From the" aromatic pastures of the North ; 
Wild warriors of the turqnoise hills,"* — and those 
VV^ho dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
Of Hindoo Kosh,' in stormy freedom bred. 
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed. 
But none, of all who owned the Chiefs command 
Rushed to that battle-field with bolder hand, 

' *• Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold 
or silver, or in marquetry with small gems." — Asiat. Misc. v. i. 

2 Azab or Saba. 

3 " The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron's 
feathers in their turbans." — Accomit of Independent Tartary. 

* In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) they find tur- 
quoises. — F.bn Haukal. 

* For a description of these stupendous ranges of mountains, see El^phin- 
*tone's (^mibul. 



88 L A L I . A R O O K H . 

Or sterner hate, than Iran's outlawed men, 
Her Worshippers of Fire ^ — all panting then 
For veno-eance on the' accursed Saracen : 
Vengeance at last for their dear country spurred, 
Her throne usurped, and her bright shrines o'erturned 
From Yezd's- eternal Mansion of the Fire, 
Where aged saints in dreams of heaven expire ; 
From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
That burn into the Caspian,^ fierce they came, 
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, 
Sv^ vengeance triumphed, and their tyrants bled. 

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, 
That high in air their motley banners tossed 
Around the Prophet-Chief — all eyes still bent 
Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went. 
That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, 
That rainbow of the field, whose showers were 
blood ! 

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set. 
And risen again, and found them gra{)pling yet ; 
While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, 
Smoke up to heaven — hot as that crimson haze. 



1 The Cihebers or (jiiebres, those original natives of Persia, who adherei"! 
to their ancient faith, the '•elision of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest 
of their country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at home, or forced to 
become wanderers abroad. 

2 " Yezd. the chief residence of those ancient natives, who worship thr 
Sun and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, without 
being once extinguished for a moment, about 3000 years, on a mountain 
near Yezd, called Ater Quedah. signifying the House or Mansion of the 
Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that mountain." — 
Sfephen^s Perna. 

3 " When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naphtha on an island neaj 
Baku) boil up the hiffher, and the Naphtha often takes fire on the surface oj 
the ea.'th, and runs in a flame into the sea to a d stance almost inc; edible * 
— Hat.way on the Everlasting Fire at Baku. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. S9 

By which the prostrate Caravan is awed/ 

In the red Desert when the wind's abroad. 

" On, Swords of God! " the panting Caliph calls, — 

"Thrones for the hving — heaven for him who 

falls!" — 
'On, braVe avengers, on," Mokanna cries, 
"And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies!" 
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — 
They clash — they strive — the Caliph's troops give 

way ! 
Mokanna's self plucks the black Banner down, 
And now the Orient World's Imperial crown 
Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that shout! 
Some hand hath checked the flying Moslem's rout ; 
And now they turn, they rally — at their head 
A warrior, (like those angel youths who led, 
In glorious panoply of Heaven's own mail. 
The Champions of the Faith through Beder's vale,^) 
Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, 
1\irns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives 
At once the multitudinous torrent back — 
While hope and courage kindle in his track ; 
And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 
Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 
In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight, 
Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy niglit, 

1 Savary says of the south wind, which blows in EG;ypt from F'ebrunrv to 
May, " Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an imi)elu<>us whirlwind, 
wliich passes rapidly, and is fatal to the traveller, surprised in the middle of 
the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll before it, the firmament is envel- 
oped in a thick veil, and the sun appears of the color of blood. Sonjetimes 
whole caravans are buried in it." 

2 In the threat victory trained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say 
the Mussulmans, by three thousand anjiels. led by Gabriel, jiouiited on hts 
horse Hiaziim. — See Tlie Koran tnd its Commentators 

8* 



90 LALLAROOKH. 

4mong the fugitive clouds that, hurrying l)y, 
Leave only her unshaken in the sky — 
In vain he yells his desperate curses out, 
Deals death promiscuously to all about, 
To foes that charge and coward friends that lly 
And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy. 
The panic spreads — "A miracle!" throughout 
The Moslem ranks, '-a miracle!" they shout, 
All gazing on that 3"outh, whose coming seems 
A light, a glor}', such as breaks in dreams ; 
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim 
The needle tracks the load-star, foUownig him! 

Right towards Mokaxxa now he cleaves his path, 
Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
He beai's from Heaven withheld its awful burst 
From weaker heads, and souls but half way cursed, 
To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst ! 
But vain his speed — though, in that hour of blood 
Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood. 
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
I\Iokanna's soul would have defied them all, 
Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
For human force, hurries ev'n him along ; 
In vain he struggles 'mid the wedged array 
Of flying thousands — he is borne away; 
And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows. 
In this forced flight, is — murdering as he goes! 
A.S a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might 
Surprises in some parched ravine at night. 
Turns, ev'n in drowning, on the t\ retched flocks, 
Swept with him in that snow-flood from thp rocks. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN 91 

A^nd, to the last, devouring on his way, 
Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay. 

"Alia ilia Alia!" — the glad shout renew — 
'Alia Akbar ! " ^ — the Caliph's in Merou. 
Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets. 
And light your shrmes and chant your ziraleets.^ 
The Swords of God have triumphed — on his throne 
Your Caliph sits, and the Veiled Chief hath flown 
Who does not envy that young warrior now. 
To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, 
In all the graceful gratitude of power. 
For his throne's safety in that perilous hour ? 
Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the' acclaim 
Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name, — 
'Mid all those holier harmonies of fame, 
Which sound along the path of virtuous souls. 
Like music round a planet as it rolls, — 
He turns away — coldly, as if some gloom 
Hung o'er his heart no triumphs can illume ; — 
Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 
Though glory's light may play, in vain it plays. 
Yes, wretched Azm ! thhie is such a grief, 
Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; 
A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break. 
Or warm or brighten, — like that Syrian Lake,^ 
Upon whose surface morn and summer shed 
Their smiles in vain, for ail beneath is dead ! — 



* The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs, "Alia Acbar 1 " says Ockley, neans 
' God is most mighty." 

* The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the F^ast sing upoc 
loyful occasions. — Rvjisel. 

3 The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetah'e life 



92 LALLAROOKH. 

Hearts there have been, o'er which this weight of woe 
Came by long use of sntiering, tame and slow ; 
But thine, lost youth ! was sudden — over thee 
It broke at once, when all seemed ecstasy ; 
When Hope looked up, and saw the gloomy Pas 
Melt into splendor, and Bliss dawn at last — 
'Twas then, ev'n then, o'er joys so freshly blown, 
This mortal blight of misery came down ; 
Ev'n then, the full, warm gnshings of thy heart 
Were checked — like fount-drops, frozen as they start — 
And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, 
Each fixed and chilled into a lasting pang. 

One sole desu'e, one passion now remains 
To keep life's fever still within his veins, — 
Vengeance ! — dire vengeance on the wretch who cast 
O'er him and all he loved that ruinous blast. 
For this, when rumors reached him in his fliglit 
Far, far away, after that fatal night, — 
Rumors of armies, thronging to the' attack 
Of the Veiled Chief, — for tliis he winged him back, 
Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurled, 
And, when all hope seemed des})erate, wildly hurled 
Himself into the scale, and saved a world. 
For this he still lives on, careless of all 
The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fal ; 
For this alone exists — like lightning-fire. 
To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! 

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; 
With a small band of desperate fugitives, 
The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, 
Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven 



\'EILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. «)/ 

He gained Merou — breathed a short curse of blood 
O'er his lost throne — then passed the Jihon's. flood,^ 
And gathering all, whose madness of belief 
Still saw a Savior in their down-fallen. Chief, 
Raised the white banner within Neksheb's gates,^ 
Ai'i there, untamed, the' approaching conqueror 
waits. 

Of all his Haram, all that bnsy hive, 
With music and with sweets sparkling alive, 
He took but one, the partner of his flight, 
One — not for love — not for her beauty's light — 
No, Zelica stood withering 'midst the gay. 
Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 
From the' Ahua tree and dies, while overhead 
To-day's yonng flower is springing in its stead. -^ 
O, not for love — the deepest Damned must be 
Touched with Heaven's glory, ere such fiends as he 
Can feel one glimpse of Love's divinity. 
But no, she is his victim; — there lie all 
Her charms for him — charms that can never palL 
As long as hell within his heart can stir, 
Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. 
To work an angel's ruin, — to behold 
As white a page as Virtue e'er unrolled 
Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll 
Of damning sins, sealed with a burning soul — 
This is his triumph; this the joy accursed, 
'I'hat ranks him among demons all but first: 



' The ancient Oxiis. 

' A city ot"I'r;insoxiana. 

* " Yoti never can cast your eyes on this tree, but vou meet there on he 
blossoms or fruit ; and ;us the blossom drops underneath on the iriound 
l^which IS frequently covered with these purple-colored flowers, \ others coni«' 
ibrth in their s^^ad," iScc. »ltc. — IMUxiiwJf. 



y4 LALLA ROOKH. 

This gives th3 victim, that before him lies • 
BUghted and lost, a glory in his eyes, 
A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 
The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes! 

But other tasks now wait liim — tasks that necfl 
All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
With which the Dives ^ have gifted him — for mark 
Over yon plains, which night had else made dark, 
Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
That spangle India's fields on showery nights,^ — 
Far as their formidable gleams they shed, 
The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, 
Glimmering along the' horizon's dusky line, 
And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 
Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town 
In all its armed magnificence looks down. 
Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements 
MoKANXA views that multitude of tents ; 
Nay, smiles to think that, though entoiled, beset, 
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ; — 
That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, 
Ev'n thus a match for myriads such as they. 
'' O for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing, 
" Who brushed the thousands of the Assyrian King ^ 
'^ To darkness in a moment, that I might 
"People hel's chambers with yon host to-night! 
" But, come what may, let who will grasp the throne, 
" Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan ; 



1 The Demons of tlie Persian mythology. 

2 Carre ri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy season. — Sos 
(lis Tnvels. 

' Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Monssal. ■— D' Herbelot 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 95 

'' Lei who will torture him, Priest — Caliph -— 

King — 
" Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 
'' With victims' shrieks and howlings of the slave, — 
'' Somids that shall glad me ev'n within my grave! " 
Thus to himself — but to the scanty train 
Still left aromid him, a far different strain: — 
"Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown 
^' I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood shall 

drown 
"Nor shadow of earth eclipse; — before whose genii' 
''The paly pomp of this world's diadems, 
" The crown of Gerashid, the pillared throne 
"Of Parviz,^ and the heron crest that shone,^ 
" Magnificent, o'er Alt's beauteous eyes,^ 
" Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies : 
" Warriors, rejoice — the port to which we've passed 
" O'er Destiny's dark wav^e, beams out at last ! 
"Victory's our own — "tis written in that Book 
"' Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, 
" That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power 
" Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, 
" When the moon's mighty orb, before all eyes, * 
"From Neksheb's Holy Well portentously shall rise! 



1 Chosroes. For the description of his Tlirone or Palace, see (jribbon 
and VHerbelot. 

Ihere were said to be under this Throne or Palace of Khosrou Parviz a 
hundred vaults filled with " treasures so immense that some Maliornetan 
writers tell us, their Prophet, to encourage liis disciples, carried them to a 
rock, which at his command opened, and gave them a prospect through it 
of the treasures of Khosrou." — Universal History. 

2 " The crown of (ierashid is cloudy and tarnished before the heron tuft 
of thy turban." — From one of the elegies or songs in praise of Ali, written 
iu characters of gold round the gallery of Abbas's tomb. — See Chnrdin. 

■^ The beauty of All's eyes was so remarkable, that whenever the Persians 
would describe anything as very lovely, they say it is Ayn l^ali, or the Kyos 
of \li. — Char din. 



96 L A L L A R O O K H 



'^Now turn and se.j!" 



They turned, and, as he spoke 
A sudden splendor all around them broke^ 
And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
Rise from the Holy Well,^ and cast its light 
Round the rich city and the plahi for miles,'^ — 
Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles 
Of many a dome and fair-roofed imaret 
As autumn suns shed round them when they set. 
Instant from all who saw the' illusive sign 
A murmur broke — " Miraculous ! divine ! " 
The Gheber bowed, thinking his idol star 
Had waked, and burst impatient through the bar 
Of midnight, to inflame him to the war ; 
While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray, 
The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day. 
Had rested on the Ark,^ and now again 
Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. 

^' To victory! " is at once the cry of all — 
Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call — 
But instant the huge gates are flung aside, 
And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide 
Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. 



' We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor, than that it w;ie 
"une machine, qu'il disoit etre la Lune." According to Richardson, the 
miracle is perpetuated in Nekscheb. — " Xakshab, the name of a city in 
Transoxiania, where they say there is a well, in which the appearance of 
the moo.a is to be seen night and day." 

2 " II amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de TS^ekhscheb, en 
faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d'un puits un corps lumineux sem- 
blable a Lune, qui portoit sa lumiere jiisqu'a la distance de plusieurs milles.'' 
- - jy Herbelot. Hence he was called Sazendehmah, or the Moon-maker. 

3 Tha Shechinah, cilled Sakinat in the Koran. — See Sale's JSote 
chap. ii. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KH0RA3SAN 97 

The watchmen of the camp, — who, in tlieir rounds 
Had paused, and ev'n forgot the punctual sounds 
Of the small drum with which they count the night, 
To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 
Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, 
And in a death-groan give their last alarm. 
" On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen,^ 
'* Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean ; 
" There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky lance 
''May now achieve mankind's deliverance." 
Desperate the die — such as they only cast. 
Who venture for a world, and stake their last. 
But Fate's no longer with him — blade for blade 
Springs up to meet them thro' the glimmering shade, 
And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
Pour to the spot, hkc bees of Kauzeroon^ 
To the shrill timbrel's summons, — till, at length, 
The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, 
And back to Neksheb's gates, covering the plain 
With random slaughter, drives the' adventurous 

train ; 
Among the last of whom the Silver Veil 
Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail 
Of some tossed vessel, on a stormy night, 
Catching the tempest's momentary light ! 



1 The parts of the night are made knowni as ^^■ell by instruments of 
music, as by the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small drums. — See 
Burdefs Oritntcd Customs, vol. i. p. 119. 

2 The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used to 
enclose a considerable space round the royal tents. — Notes on the Bahat' 
danuah. 

The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. JNorden tells us that 
the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the other tents by forty 
lanterns being suspended before it. — See llarmers Observations on Job. 

3 " From the groves of orange-trees a» Kauzeroon the bees cull a cele- 
brated honey." — Moricfs Travels. 

9 



98 L.ALLAKOOKH. 

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low? 
Nor dashed his brow, nor checked his darmg? No. 
Though half the wretches, whom at night he led 
To thrones and victory, he disgraced and dead, 
Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest, 
Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest ; — 
And they believe him! — O, the lover may 
Distrust that look which steals his sonl away ; — 
The babe may cease to think that it can play 
With heaven's rainbow; — alchymists may doubt 
The shining gold their crucible gives out ; 
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 

And well the' Impostor knew all lures and arts 
That Lucifer e'er taught to tangle hearts ; 
Nor, 'mid these last bold workings of his plot 
Against men's souls, is Zelica forgot. 
Ill-fated Zelica ! had reason been 
Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, 
Thou never could'st have borne it — Death had come 
At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 
But 'twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 
Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense 
And passionate struggles of that fearful night, 
When her last hope of peace and heaven took flight ; 
And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, 
As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke 
Ominous flashings now and then will start, 
Which show the fire's still busy at its heart ; 
Yet was she mostly wrapped in solemn gloom, — 
Not S' ch as Azim's, brooding o'er its doom, 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 99 

A.i]d calm without, as is the brow of death^ 
While busy worms are gnawing underneath — 
But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 
From thought or pain, a sealed-up apathy, 
Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, 
The cold, pale victim of her tortm'er's will. 

Again, as in Merou, he had her decked 
Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect ; 
And led lier glittering forth before the eyes 
Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice, — 
Pallid as she, the youijg. devoted Bride 
Of the fierce Nile, when, decked in all the pride 
Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.^ 
And while the wretched maid hung down her head, 
And stood, as one just risen from the dead, 
Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell 
His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 
Possessed her now, — and from that darkened trance 
Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance. 
Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, 
Her soul was roused, and words of wildness came 
Instant the bold blasphemer would translate 
Her ravings into oracles of fate. 
Would hail Heaven's signals in her flashing eyes, 
And call her shrieks the language of the skies! 

But vain at length his arts — despair is seen 
Gathering around; and famine comes to glean 



' " A custom, still subsisting at this day. seems to me to prove that the 
Eg}-plian'' fnrmeriv sacrificed a youns virgin to the God of the .Vile ; tor 
they now make a statue of earth in shape of a girl, to whicli they give tho 
name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into chc river.'' — Savary. 



100 LALLA ROOKH. 

All that the sword had left unreaped : — in vain, 

At morn and eve, across the northern plain 

He looks impatient for the promised spears 

Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers ; 

They come not — while his fierce beleaguerers pour 

Engines of havoc in, unknown before,^ 

And horrible as new;^ — javelins, that fly 

In wreathed with smoky flames through the dark sky, 

And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount, 

Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount, "^ 

Showers of consuming fire o'er all below ; 

Looking, as through the' illumined night they go, 



1 That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mussulmans 
early in the eleventh century, appears from Dow's Account of Mamood I 
" When he arrived at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was de 
fended by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be built, each of 
which he armed with six iron spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, 
to prevent their being boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that 
kind of war. When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty archers 
into each boat, and five others with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, 
and naphtha to set the whole river on fire." — 

The agnee aster, too, in Indian poems the Instrument of Fire, whose 
flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed to signify the Greek Fire. — See 
Wilks's South of India, vol. i. p. 471. — And in the curious Javan poem, the 
Brata Yudha given by Sir Stamford Raffles in his History of Java, we find, 
" He aimed at the heart of Soeta with the sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire." 

The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, long before its 
supposed discovery in Europe, is introduced by Ebn Fadnl, the Egyptian 
geographer, who lived in the thirteenth century. " Bodies," he says, " in 
the form of scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous powder, glide 
along, making a gentle noise ; then, exploding, they lighten, as it were, and 
burn. But there are others which, cast into the air, stretch along like a 
cloud, roaring horribly, as thunder roars, and on all sides vomiting out 
flames, burst, burn, and reduce to cinders whatever conies in their way." 
The historian Ben Ahdalla, in speaking of the sieges of Abulualid in the 
year of the Hegira 712, says, " A fiery globe, by means of combustible 
matter, with a mighty noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the force of 
lightning, and shakes the citadel." — See the extracts from Casirts Bib- 
lioth. Arab. Hispan. in the Appendix to Berington's Literary History of the 
Middle Ages. 

^ The (jreek fire, which was occasionally lent by the emperors to their 
allies. '' It was," says Gibbon, " either laimched in red-hot balls of stone 
and iron, or darted in arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow 
which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil." 

3 See Hanway's Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku, fwhich ia 
called by Lieutenant Pottinger Joala Mookee, or, the Flaming Mouth,) 
taking fire and running into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions 



VEILF. D PROPHET OF KHO HASSAN. 101 

f^ike those wild birds ^ that by the Magiaiis oft, 
At fei^tivals of fire, were sent aloft 
Into the au*, with blazing fagots tied 
To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. 
All night the groans of wretches who expire, 
In agony, beneath these darts of fire. 
Ring through the city — while, descending o'er 
Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore, — 
Its lone bazaars, whh then' bright cloths of gold, 
Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolled, — 
Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
Now gush with blood, — and its tall minarets. 
That late have stood up in the evening glare 
Of the red sun, unhallowed by a prayer; — 
0"er each, m turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall. 
And death and conflagration throughout all 
The desolate city hold high festival ! 

MoKANNA sees the world is his no more ; — 
One stmg at parting, and his grasp is o'er. 
"What! drooping now?" — thus, with unblusiiin^ 

cheek. 
He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, 

some wells in Circassii. strongly impregnated with this inflammable oil. 
from which issues boiling water. " Though tlie weather." he adds, " was 
now verv cold, the warmth of these wells of hot water produced near them 
the verdure and How-ers of spring." 

Major Scott Waring; siys, tliat naphtha is used by the Persians, as we are 
told it was in hell, for lamps. 

many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light 
As from a sky. 

• " At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb SezD. they used to set fire 
to large bunches of dry combustibles. f.i5tened round wild beasts and birds 
which being then let loose, the air and earth appeared one creat illumina- 
tion ; and, as these terrified creatures natufTlly fled to the woods for shelter 
it is «asy to conceive th e conflagrations they produced." — Kichardsoii'i 
Uissertation. 



1 0'J L A L L A R O O K H . 

Of all those famished slaves around him lying, 
And by the light of blazing temples dying : — 
■' Wliat ! — drooping now? — now, when at length 

we press 
'' Home o'er the very threshold of success ; 

' When All A from om' ranks hath thinned away 
" Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 
" Of favor from us, and we stand at length 
"Heirs of his light and children of his strength, 
" The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
" Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all ! 
" Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are. 
"All faith in him, who Avas yonr Light, your Star? 
" Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid 
" Beneath this Veil, the flashins: of whose lid 
" Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
"Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? 
" Long have its lightnings slept — too long — but now 
"All earth shall feel the' unveiling of this brow! 
"To-night — yes, sainted men! this very night, 
" I bid you all to a fair festal rite, 
"Where — having deep refreshed each wear}^ limb 
"' With viands, such as feast Heaven's cherubim, 
" And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, 

' With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids above 
'' Keep, sealed with precious musk, for those they 

love,^ — 
" I will myself uncurtain in your sight 
'^ The wonders of this brow's ineffable light ; 
" Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 
" Yon myriads, howling through the universe ! " 

1 " The rishteous shall be friven to drink of pure v/ine, sealed • tht; sesi 
^vhereof shall be musk." — Koran, chap. Ixxxiii, 



Vh:iLED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 103 

Eager they listen — while each accent darts 
Xew life into their chilled and hope-sick hearts ; 
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies 
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies ! 
Wildly they point their lances to the light 
Of the fast sinking sun, and shout '-To-night!" — 
"To-night,'' their Chief re-echoes in a voice 
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. 
Deluded victims! — never hath this earth 
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. 
Here^ to the few, whose iron frames had stood 
This racking waste of famine and of blood, 
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out : — 
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, 
Danced, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, 
Among the dead and dying, strewed around ; — 
While some pale wretch looked on, and from his 

wound 
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, 
In ghastly transport waved it o'er his head! 

'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful paust 
Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause, 
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst, 
Where the Veiled demon held his feast accursed, 
When Zelica — alas! poor ruined heart. 
In every horror doomed to bear its part ! — 
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave. 
Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave, 
G/ew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
Compassed him round, and, ere he could repeat 
His message throueh, fell lifeless at her feet 1 



104 LALLA ROOKH. 

Sliudiering she wer.t — a soul-felt pang of f:ar, 
A presage that her own dark doom was near, 
Roused every feeling, and brought Reason back 
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
All round seemed tranquil — ev'n the foe'had ceased, 
As if aware of that demoniac feast, 
His fiery bolts ; and though the heavens looked rod 
'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread. 
But hark — she stops — she listens — dreadful tone! 
'Tis her tormentor's laugh — and now, a groan, 
A long death-groan comes with it: — can this be 
The place of mirth, the bower of revelry ? 
She enters — Holy Alla, what a sight 
Was there before her ! By the glimmering light 
Of the pale dawn, mixed with the flare of brands 
That round lay burning, dropped from lifeless 'iands, 
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, 
Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead — 
The urns, the cups, from which they late had quafled, 
All gold and gems, but — what had been the draught'* 
! who need ask, that saw those livid guests, 
With their swollen heads sunk blackening on their 

breasts, 
Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare. 
As if they sought but saw no mercy there ; 
As if they felt, though poison racked them through, 
Remoi'^e the deadlier torment of the two! 
While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train 
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain 
Would have met death with transport by his side, 
Here mute and helpless gasped ; — but, as they died 
Looked horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain 
And clinched the slackening hand at him in vain. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 105 

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, 
The stony look of horror and despair, 
Which some of these expiring victims cast 
Upon their soul's tormentor to the last ; — 
Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now raised 
Showed them, as in death's agony they gazed, 
Not the long promised light, the brow, whose beammg 
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, 
But features horribler than Hell e'er traced 
On its own brood; — no Demon of the Waste, ^ 
No churchyard Ghole, caught lingermg in the light. 
Of the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight 
With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
The' Impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows : — 
•' There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your 

Star — 
" Ye toould be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
"Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill 
"Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? 
" Swear that the burning death ye feel within 
'•'Is but the trance with which heaven's joys begin; 
" That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgraced 
" Ev'n monstrous man, is — after God's own taste; 
"And that — but see! — ere I have half-way said 
"My greetings through, the' uncourteous souls are 

fled. 
" Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die, 
" If Eblis loves you half so well as I. — 



• " The Afglnuns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts (»1 
fheir country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom tiiev rail the (ihoo 
l'^<! Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate" the wildness of 
Rn ,' sequestered tribe, by saying, tnev are wild as the Demon of the H'asto ' 
— Elphinstone's Caubul. 



I Of) L A L L A R O O K H . 

"Ha, my young bride! — 'tis well — take thou thy 

seat '. 
" Nay, come — no shuddering — didst thou never mt;et 
" The Dead before ?- -they graced our wedding, sweet ; 
" And these, my guests to-night, have brimmed so trufl 
" Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. 
"But — how IS this? — all empty? all drunk up? 
" Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, 
^' Young bride — yet stay — one precious drop remains, 
" Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins ; — 
'' Here, drink — and should thy lover's conquering arms 
" Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, 
''Give him l)ut half this venom in thy kiss, 
"And rU forgive my haughty rival's bliss! 

"For me — 1 too must die — but not like these 
" Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze ; 
" To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 
" With all death's grimness added to its own, 
"And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
"Of slaves, exclaiming, 'There his Godship lies! ' 
"No — cursed race — since first my soul drew breath, 
" They've been my dupes, and shall be ev'n in death. 
" Thou seest yon cistern in the shade — 'tis filled 
" With burning drugs, for this last hour distilled : ^ — 
*' There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame — 
" Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame ! — 
•' 'I'here perish, all — en pulse of thine shall fail — 
^ Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 



' " II donna du poison dans le vin a tons ses gens, et se jetta lui-meme 
ensuite dans line cuve pleine de drogues brulanles et consumantes, afin 
qu'il ne restat rien de tons les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui re- 
stoienl dr sa secto puissent croire qu'il etoitmonte au ciel, ce qui ne manoua 
pas d'arr ver." — U'Herbelot. 



VEILED PllOl'HET OF KHORASSAN. 107 

" So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave, 
•' Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave ; — 
' That I've but vanished from this earth awhile, 
" To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile ! 
" So shall thev build me altars in their zeal, 
" Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall knee! : 
" Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, 
"Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 
" The sail he spreads for heaven with blasts from lieil ! 
'" So shall my banner, through long ages, be 
" The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy ; — 
•' Kings yet unborn shall rue Mok anna's name, 
' And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, 
•• Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, 
" And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss ui life. 
" But, hark ! their battering engine shakes the wall — 
"Why, let it shake — thus I can brave them all. 
'' No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, 
" And I can trust thy faith, for — thou'lt be dumb. 
' Now mark how readily a wretch like me, 
' In one bold plunge, commences Deity ! 






He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said — 
Ctuick closed the burning waters o'er his head, 
And Zelica was left — within the ring 
Of thore wide walls the only living thing ; 
The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath. 
In all that frightful wilderness of death ! 
More like some bloodless ghost — such as, they tell. 
In the Lone Cities of the Silent^ dwell, 

' " They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they sfuno- 
times call by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and vhich they 
people with the gl osts of the departed, who sit each at the Jiead of his own 
grive, invisible to mortal eyes.'' - Elphinstone. 



108 LALLAROOKH. 

\.nd there, unseen of all but Alla, sit 
Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. 

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stir? 
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 
Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent, 
By Greece to conquering Mahadi) are spent ; 
A.nd now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 
From high balistas, and the shielded throng 
Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, 
All speak the' impatient Islamite's intent 
To try, at length, if tower and battlement 
And bastioned wall be not less hard to win. 
Less tough to break down, than the hearts within 
First in impatience and in toil is he, 
The burning Azim — 1 could he but see 
The' Impostor once alive within his grasp, 
Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp. 
Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace 
With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace ! 

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls,' 
Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, 
But still no breach — " Once more, one mighty swing 
"Of all your beams, together thundering I" 
There — the wall shakes — the shouting troops 

exult, 
" Cluick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult 
"Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own!" 
'Tis done — the battlements come crashing down, 
And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two, 
Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew, 
ShoAVS the dim, desolate city smoking through. 



VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 109 

But strange! no signs of life — nought living seen 

Above, below — what can this stilhiess mean: 

A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes — 

'' In through the breach," impetuous Azim cries ; 

But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 

In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile. — 

Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanced 

Forth from the ruined walls, and, as there glanced 

A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 

The well-known Silver Veil ! — " 'Tis He, 'tis He, 

Mokanna, and alone ! " they shout around ; 
Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground — 

Mine, Holy Caliph ! mine," he cries, " the task 
'To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all 1 ask." 
Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, 
Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow 
And falteringly comes, till they are near ; 
Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear, 
And, casting otf the Veil in falling, shows — 
O! — 'tis his Zelica's life-blood that flows! 

" I meant not, Azm," soothingly she said, 
As on his trembling arm she leaned her head, 
And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear — 
" I meant not thou should'st have the pain of this : — 
'•Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
" Thou would'st not rob me of, didst thou but know 
" How oft I've prayed to God I might die so ! 
" But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow ; — 
" To linger on were maddening — and I thouf^ht 
" Tf once that V(ul^-nay, look not on it — cnught 

to 



no LALLAROOKH. 

"The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should bo 

" Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly- 

"But this is s A^eeter — O! believe me, yes — 

" I would not change this sad, but dear caress, 

"This death within thy arms I would not give 

" For the most smiling life the happiest live I 

" All, that stood dark and drear before the eye 

" Of my strayed soul, is passing swiftly by ; 

•'' A light comes o'er me from those looks of love. 

•^Like the first di>\vn of mercy from above; 

" And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiven. 

" Angels will echo the blest words in heaven ! 

"But live, my Azim ; — O! to call thee mine 

" Thus once again ! my Azim - — dream divine ! 

" Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet 

"Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 

" O, live to pray for her — to bend the knee 

" Morning and night before that Deity, 

" To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, 

"As thine are, Azim, never breathed in vain, — 

" And pray that He may pardon her, — may take 

" Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, 

" And, nouglit remembering but her love to thee, 

"Make her all thine, all His, eternally! 

"Go to those happy fields where first we twined 

"Our youthful hearts together — every wind 

" That meets thee there, fresh from the well-knoAvc 

flowers, 
" Will bring the sweetness of those innocent 

hours 
" Back to thy soul, and thou may'st feel again 
" Foi thy poor Zklica as thou didst then. 



VEILED PRQPHET OF KHORASSAN. HI 

'' So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 
'^ To heaven upon the mornmg's sunshine, rise 
" With all love's earliest ardor to the skies ! 
"And should they — but, alas! my senses fail — 
" O for one minute! — should thy prayers prevail — 
" If pardoned souls may, from that World of Bliss. 
*' Reveal their joy to those they love in this — 
" I'll come to thee — in some sweet dream — and tell — 
•' O Heaven — I die — dear love! farewell, farewell." 

Time fleeted — years on years had passed away, 
And few of those who, on that mournful day, 
Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
The maiden's death, and the youth's agony, 
Were living still — when, by a rustic grave, 
Beside the swift Amoo's transparent Avave, 
An aged man, who had grown aged there 
By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, 
For the last time knelt down — and, though the shade 
Of death hung darkening over him, there played 
A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, 
That brightened even Death — like the last streak 
Of intense glory on the horizon's brim. 
When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim 
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept ; 
She, for whose spirit he had prayed and wept 
So many years, had come to him, all dressed 
In angel smiles, and told him she was blessed ! 
For this the old man breathed his thanks, and died. — 
And there, upon the banks of that loved tide, 
He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 



\\2 LALLAROOKH. 



The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 
being ended, they ^vere now doomed to hear Fadla- 
deen's criticisms upon it. A series of disappomt- 
ments and accidents had occurred to this learned 
Chamberlain during the journey. In the first place, 
those couriers, stationed, as m the reign of Shah 
Jehan, between Delhi and the Western coast of In- 
dia, to secure a constant supply of mangoes for the 
Royal Table, had, by some cruel irregularity, failed 
in their duty ; and to eat any mangoes but those of 
Mazagong was, of course, mipossible.' In the next 
place, the elephant, laden with his fine antique por- 
celain,^ had, in an unnsual fit of liveliness, shattered 
the whole set to pieces: — an irreparable loss, as 
many of the vessels were so exquisitely old, as to 
have been used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, 
wlio reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang. 
His Koran, too, supposed to be the identical copy 
between the leaves of which Mahomet's favorite pi- 
geon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran- 
bearer three whole days ; not without much spiritual 
alarm to Fadladeen, who, though professing to hold, 
with other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that sal- 



' " The celebrity of Mazfio-ong is owing to its mangoes, which are cer 
tainlv the best fruit 1 ever tasted. 'J'iie parent-tree, from which all those 
of this species have been grafted, is honored during the fruit-season by a 
jvj.ird of sepovs ; and. in the reisn of Shah Jehan. couriers were stationed 
between Delhi and the Mahratta coast, to secure an abundant and fresh 
supply of mangoes for the royal table." — Mrs. Graham's Journal of a Res- 
idence in India. 

'^ 'I'his old porcelain is found in digging, and " if it is esteemed, it is not 
because it has acquired any new degree of beauty in the earth, but because 
it has retained its ancient beauty ; and this alone is of great importance in 
China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels wliich were 
used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before 
the dynasty of Tang, at which time porcelain began to be used by the Em- 
perors." (about the vear 4-1'i.) — Dttnyi's ('ollection of curious Observa- 
tions, &c. ; — a 1)ad translation of some parts of the Lettres Edifiantes e* 
Curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits. 



LALLAROOKH. W) 

ration could only be found in the Koran, was strongly 
suspected of believing in his heart, that it could only 
be found in his own particular copy of it. When 
to all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the 
cooks, in putting the pepper of Canara into his dishes 
instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily 
suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at 
least, a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. 

" In order," said he, importantly swinging about 
his chaplet of pearls, " to convey with clearness my 
opinion of the story this young man has related, it is 
necessary to take a review of all the stories that have 

ever " — " My good Fadladeen ! " exclaimed 

the Princess, interrupting him, " we really do not de- 
serve that you should give yourself so much trouble. 
Your opinion of the poem we have just heard, will, 1 
have no doubt, be abundantly edifying, without any 
further waste of your valuable erudition." ^ " If that 
be all," replied the critic, — evidently mortified at not 
being allowed to show how much he knew about 
every thing, but the subject immediately before him 
— "if that be all that is required, the matter is easily 
despatched." He then proceeded to analyze the 
poem, in that strain, (so well known to the unfortu- 
nate bards of Delhi,) whose censures were an infliction 
from which few recovered, and whose very praises 
were like the honey extracted from the bitter flowers 
of the aloe. The chief personages of the story 
were, if he rightly understood them, an ill-tavored 
gentleman, with a veil over his face; — a young lady, 
whose reason went and came, according as it suited 
the poet's convenience to be sensible or otherwise: — 
and a youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bon- 
nets, wlio took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a 
Divinity. " From, such materials," sa'd he, " what 
call be expected? — after rivalling each other m long 
10* 



1 14 L ALLA ROOK H. 

speeches and at surdities, through some thousands of 
lines as indigestible as the filberts of Berdaa, our 
friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis ; the 
young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recom- 
mendation is that it is her last : and the lover lives 
on to a good old age, for the laudable purpose of see- 
nig her ghost, which he at last happily accomplishes, 
and expu'es. This, you wih allow, is a fair summary 
of the story ; and if Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told 
no better, our Holy Prophet (to whom be all honor 
and glory !) had no need to be jealous of his abilities 
for story-tellmg." ^ 

With respect to the style, it was worthy of the 
matter : — it had not even those poUtic contrivances 
of structure, which make up for the commonness of 
the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor 
that stately poetical phraseology by which sentiments 
mean in themselves, like the blacksmith's 2 apron con- 
verted into a banner, are so easily gilt and embroi- 
dered into consequence. Then, as to the versification 
it was, to say no worse of it, execrable ; it had neither 
the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweetness of Hafez, 
nor the sententious march of Sadi ; but appeared to 
him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to 
have been modelled upon the gait of a very tired 
dromedary. The licenses, too, in which it indulged, 
were unpardonable : — for instance this line, and the 
poem abounded with such, — 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 

■'What critic that can count," said Fadladeen, ''and 
has his full complement of fingers to count withal, 

1 " La lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, quand ]\Ja- 
nomet les entretenoit de THistoire de I'Ancien Testament, ils les mepri- 
Boient, lui disant que celles que Na-sser leur racontoient etoient beaucoup 
plus belles. Cette preference attira a Nasser la malediction de Mahomet 
el te tous ses disciplBS." — D'Herbelot. 

2 The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak and 
whose apron became the Royal Standard of Persia. 



LALLAROOKH. 115 

would tolerate for an instant such syllabic superflu- 
ities?" — He here looked round, and discovered that 
most of his audience were asleep ; while the glimmer- 
ing lamps seemed inclined to follow their example. 
It became necessary, therefore, however painful to 
himself, to put an end to his valuable animadversions 
for the present, and he accordingly concluded, with 
an air of dignified candor, thus: — ''Notwithstanding 
the observations which 1 have thought it my duty to 
make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the 
young man — so far from it, indeed, that if he will 
but totally alter his style of writing and thinking, 1 
have very little doubt that I shall be vastly pleased 
with him." 

Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great 
Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to 
ask for another story. The youth was still a wel- 
come guest in the pavilion — to one heart, perhaps, 
too dangerously welcome; — but all mention of 
poetry was, as if by common consent, avoided. 
Though none of the party had much respect for 
Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus magisterially de- 
livered, evidently made an impression on them all. 
The Poet himself, to whom criticism was quite a 
new operation, (being wholly unknown in that Para- 
dise of the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the shock as it is 
generally felt at first, till use has made it more toler- 
able to the patient ; — the Ladies began to suspect 
that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed to con- 
clude that there must have been much good sense in 
what Fadladeen said, from its having set them all 
so soundly to sleep; — while the self-complacent 
Chamberlain was left to triumph in the idea of having 
for the hundred and fiftieth time in his life, ex- 
tinguished a Poet. liALLA RooKH alone — and Lovo 
knew why — ^- persisted in being delighted with all sho 



_J 



116 LALLAROOKH. 

nad heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily 
as possible. Her manner, however, of first return- 
ing to tlie subject was unbacky. It was while they 
rested, during the heat of noon, near a fountain, on 
which some hand had rudely traced those well-known 
words from the Garden of Sadi, — ''Many, like me, 
have viewed this fountain, but they are gone, and 
their eyes are closed forever!" — that she took 
occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this ])assage, 
to dwell upon the charms of poetry in general. " It 
is true," she said, '• few poets can nnitate that sub- 
lime bird, which flies always in the air, and never 
touches the earth : ^ — it is only once in many ages a 
Genius appears, whose words, like those on the Writ- 
ten Mountain, last forev^er:^ — but still there are 
some, as delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, 
who, if not stars over our head, are at least flowers 
along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment 
we ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon 
them for a brightness and a durability beyond their 
nature. In short," continued she, blushing, as if 
conscious of being caught in an oration, *• it is quite 

' " The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to fly con- 
stantly iu the air, and never touch the ground ; it is looked upon as a bird 
of happy omen ; and that every head it overshades will in time wear a 
crown." — Richardson. 

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with Hyder in 1760, 
one of the stipulations was, " that he should have the distinction of tsvo 
honorary attendants standing behind him, holding fans composed of the 
feathers of the humma, according to the practice of his family." — ^Vilks's 
South of India. He adds in a note, — "The Humma is a fabulous bird. 
The head over which its shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with 
a crown. The splendid little bird suspended over the throne of Tippoo 
Sultaun. found at Seringapatam in 1799, was intended to represent this 
poetical fancy." 

2 •' To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, 
figures. &c., on those rocks, which have from thence acquired the name of 
tlie Written Mountain." — VolA?y. M. Gebelin and others liave been at 
much pains to attach some mysterious and important meaning to these in- 
scriptions 5 but Xiebuhr. as well as Volney, thinks that they must have 
been executed at idle hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, " who w< re 
satisfied with cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument 
addmg to their names and the date of their journeys some rudo figures 
which bespeak the hand of a people but little skilled in tlie arts."— Nie'mh^ 



LALLAROOKH. 117 

crmA that a poet cannot wander through his reg ons 
of enchantment, without having a critic forever, like 
the old Mail of the Sea, upon his back ! " ^ — Fadla- 
DEEN, it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to 
himself, and would treasure it up in his mind as a 
whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden silence 
ensued ; and the Princess, glancing a look at Fera- 
MORZ, saw plainly she must wait for a more coura- 
geous moment. 

But the glories of Nature, and her wild, fragrant 
airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful 
spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the 
dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an 
evening or two after, they came to the small Valley 
of Gardens, which had been planted by order of the 
Emperor, for his favorite sister Rochinara, during 
their progress to Cashmere, some years before ; and 
never was there a more sparkling assemblage of 
sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of 
Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, 
that poetry, or love, or religion, has ever consecrated ; 
from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares 
his mistress's hair,^ to the Camalata, by whose rosy 
blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented.^ As they 
sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, and 
Lalla Rookh remarked that she could fancy it the 
abode of that Flower-loving Nymph whom they 
worship in the temples of Kathay,"^ or of one of 

1 The Story of Sinbad. 

2 See Notfs Hafez, Ode v. 

' " The Camalatk (called by Linnaeus, IpomaRa) is the most beautiful of 
its order, both in the color and form of its leaves and flowers; its eleganj 
blossoms are ' celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue,' and have justly pro. 
cured it the name of Camalata, or Love's Creeper." — Sir TF. Jones. 

" Camalata may also mean a mytholotrical plant, by which all desires are 
granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra ; and if ever flower was vvor 
ihy of paradise, it is our charming Ipomx'a." — 76. 

* " According to Father Premare. in his tract on Chinese Mytholog}', thf 
jjDlher of l''o-hi vvas the daughter of heaven, surnamed Flower-loving j and 



118 LALLA ROOKH. 

those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air. who 
live upon perfumes, and to whom a place hke this 
might make some amends for the Paradise they have 
lost, — the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, 
while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual 
creatures she was describinsr. said, hesitatingly, tliat he 
remembered a Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess 
had no objection, he Avould venture to relate. " It 
is," said he, with an appealing look to Fadladeen, 
"in a lighter and hnmbler strain than the other : " 
then, striking a few careless but melancholy chords 
on his kitar, he thus began : — 



as the nymph was walking alone on the bank of aiTiver, she fourid herspH 
p.ncircled by a rainbow, after which she became pregnant, and, at the «ia'j 
of twelve years, was delivered of a son radiant as herself.'' — Asiat. Res 



PARADISE AND THE PERI, 



OiNE inorn a Pen, at the gate 

Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; 

And as she listened to the Springs 

Of Life within, like music flowing, 
And caught the light upon her wings 

Through the half-open portal glowing, 
She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e'er have lost that glorious place ! 

'* How happy," exclaimed this child of air, 
" Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 

'' 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall ! 
" Though mine are the gardens of earth and sen, 
'' And the stars themselves have flowers for me, 

"One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all I 

" Though .unny the Lake of cool Cashmere, 
" With i^/ plane-tree Isle reflected clear, ^ 

"And . weetly the founts of that Valley fall ; 
" Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, 
"And thvi golden floods that thitherward stray,^ 
"Yet — O, 'tis only the Bless'd can say 

" Ho\\ the waters of Heaven outshine them all ! 



' " Numerous? small islands emers^e from the Lake of Cashmere. One ib 
called Char Che \aur, from the plane-trees upon it." — Foster. 
' "The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes 



120 LiALLA ROOKH. 

*' Go, wing thy flight from star to star, 
'From world to luminous world, as far 

"As the universe spreads its flaming wall 
" Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, 
" And xxKiltiply each through endless years, 

" One mmute of Heaven is worth them all 

The glorious Angel, who Avas keeping 
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; 
And, as he nearer drew and listened 
To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened 
Within his eyelids, like the spray 

From Eden's fountain, when it lies 
On the blue flower, which — Bramins say — 

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.^ 

" Nymph of a fair but erring line ! " 
Gently he said — " One hope is thine. 
•' "Tis written in the Book of Fate, 

" The Peri yet may he forgiven 
*' Who brings to this Eternal Gate 

" The Gift that is most dear to Heaven ! 
''Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 
" 'Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in." 

Rapidly as comets run 

To the' embraces of the Sun, 



oi' Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which enjploys the in- 
habitants all the summer in gathering it.'" — Description of Tibet in Ptnk- 
erton. 

• " The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac flowers 
only in Paradise." — Sir W. Jones. It appears, however, from a curious 
letter of the Sultan of Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on 
earth may lav claim to the possession of it. "This is the Sultan, whc 
keev)s the flower champaka that is blue, and to be found in no other countr\ 
but his, being yellow elsewhere " — Marsden s Sumatra. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 121 

Fleeter than the starry brands 

Flung at night from angel hands ^ 

At those dark and daring sprites 

Who would climb the' empyreal heights. 

Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 
That just then broke from morning's eyes. 

Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 

But whither shall the Spirit go 

To find this gift for Heaven ? — "I know 

•' The wealth," she cries, " of every urn, 

" In which unnumbered rubies burn, 

" Beneath the pillars of Chilminar ; ^ 

" I know where the Isles of Perfume are,'^ 

"Many a fathom down in the sea, 

'^ To the south of sun-bright Araby ; ^ 

" I know, too, where the Genii hid 

" The jewelled cup of their King Jamshid,^ 

" With Life's elixir sparkling high. 

" But gifts like these are not for the sky : 

'' Where was there ever a gem that shone 

" Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne ? 



' " The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands where- 
•vith the good ani^els drive away the bad, when they approach too neiir Ine 
empyrean or verje of the heavens." — Fryer. 

2 The Forty Pillars ; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It ia 
imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by 
Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense 
treasures, whicli still remain there. — D'Herbelot, Volney. 

^ Diodortis mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of Arabia Felix, 
where there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather cluster of isles 
has disappeared, " sunk (says Grandprp) in the abyss made by tlie fire be 
neath their foundations.'' — Voyage to the Indian Ocean 

4 The Isles of Panchaia. 

* " The cup of .lainshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the foun 
dations of Persepolis." — Richardson. 

11 



122 LAI LA ROOKH. 

" And the Drops of Life — O ! what wouid tlioy be 
•'In the boundless Deep of Eternity?" 

. While thus she mused, her pinions fanned 
The air of that sweet Indian land, 
Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads 
O'er coral rocks, and amber beds ; ^ 
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 
Whose rivulets are like rich brides. 
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
Might be a Peri's Paradise ! 
But crimson now her rivers ran 

With human blood — the smell of death 
Came reeking from those spicy bowers. 
And man, the sacrifice of man. 

Mingled his taint with every breath 
Upwafted from the innocent flowers. 
Land of the Sun ! what foot invades 
Thy Pagods and thy pillared shades^ — 
Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, 
Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ? ^ 



' " It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottona is rich with pearls and 
ambergris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with gold and precious 
Btones, whose gulfs breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants 
of whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hairzan, aloes, cam- 
phor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other spices and aromatics ; where par- 
rots and peacocks are birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected 
apon the lands." — Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

2 in the ground 

The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 

About the mother-tree, a ■pillared shade. 

High over-arched, and echoing walks between. — Milton. 

For a particular description and plate of the Banyan-tree, see Cordmvr's 
CeyJun. 
3 "With this immense treasare Mamood returned to Ghizni, and in the 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 123 

'Tis He of Gazna^ — fierce in wrath 
He comes, and India's diadems 

Lie scattered in his ruinous path. — 
His bloodhounds he adorns with gems. 

Torn from the violated necks 

Of many a young and loved Sultana;^ 
Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 
Priests in the very fane he slaughters, 

And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 
Of golden shrines the sacred waters ! 

Downward the Peri turns her gaze, 
And, through the war-field's bloody haze 
Beholds a youthful warrior stand, 

Alone beside his native river, — 
The red blade broken in his hand. 

And the last arrow in his quiver. 
Live," said the Conqueror, "live to share 
' The trophies and the crowns I bear ! " 
Silent that youthful warrior stood — 
Silent he pointed to the flood 
All crimson with his country's blood, 
Then sent his last remaining dart. 
For answer, to the' Invader's heart. 



False flew the shaft, though pointed well 
The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell! — 

year 'iii)0 prepared n matrnificent festival, where he displayed to the peopio 
his wiialth in g-olden thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain with 
out th *. city of Cihizni." — Feri^hfa. 

1 '* Mahmood of (iazna. or (ifiizni, who conquered India in the beginning 
of the 11th century." — See his History in Doio and Sir .A. rilalcolm. 

2 "It is reported that the huntinir equipage of the Sultan Mahmood waa 
so magnificent, that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of which 
wore a collar set with jewels, an.-i a covering edged with gold and pearls " 
— Universal History, vol. iii. 



124 LALLAROOKH. 

Yet marked the Peri where he lay, 
And, when the rush of Avar was past, 

Swiftl}?" descending on a ray 

Of morning hght, she caught the last — 

Last glorious drop his heart had shed. 

Before its free-born spirit fled ! 

*' Be this," she cried, as she winged her flightj 
■'' My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 
" Though foul are the drops that oft distil 

" On the field of warfare, blood like this, 

"For Liberty shed, so holy is,' 
•'It would not stain the purest rill, 

"That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss! 
'' O, if there be, on this earthly sphere, 
" A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, 
' 'Tis the last libation Liberty draws 
"Prom the heart that bleeds and breaks in her 
cause! " 

" Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave 
The gift into his radiant hand, 

" Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 

" Who die thus for their native Land. — 

" But see — alas ! — the crystal bar 

"Of Eden moves not — holier far 



' Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty in th s, and 
more especially in the story that follows it, as totally inapplicable to any 
Btate of things that has ever existed in the East 5 but thoiicrh 1 cannot, of 
course, mean to employ it in that enlarged and noble sense which is so we'; 
understood at the present day, and, 1 grieve to say, so little acted upon, yet 
it is no disparanrement to the word to apply it to that national independence, 
that freedom from the interference and dictation of foreitrners. without 
which, indeed, no libertv of any kind can exist 5 and for \\\ ich both Hin 
rioos and Persians fouuht against their Mussulman invaders with, in raanv 
'-lases. a braverv that deserved much better success. 



PARADISE AND THE I' E R I . \23 

'' Than ev'n this drop the boon must be, / 

'- That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee ! " 

Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, 

Now among Afric's hmar Momitains,^ 
Far to the South, the Peri lighted ; 

And sleeked her plumage at the fountains 
Of "hat Egyptian tide — whose birth 
Ts hidden from the sons of earth 
Deep in those solitary woods, 
Where oft the Genii of the Floods 
Dance round the cradle of their Nile. 
And hail the new-born Giant's smile. ^ 
Thence over Egypt's palmy groves, 

Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings,^ 
The exiled Spirit sighing roves ; 
And now hangs listening to the doves 
In warm Rosetta's vale'^ — now loves 

To watch the moonlight on the wings 
Of the Avhite pelicans that break 
The azure calm of Mceris' Lake.^ 
'Twas a fair scene — a Land more bright 

Never did mortal eye behold ! 
Who could have thought, that saw this night 



Thn Mountains of tlie Moon, or the Moiites Lunfc of antiquity, at the 
ooi 01 which the Vile is supposed to arise.'' — Bruce. 

"Sometimes (ailed," says Jackson, "Jibbel Kumrie, or the white or 
unar-colored mountains ; so a white horse is called by the Arabians a 
mocn-colored horse." 

2 ' The Nile, which the Abyssinian3 know by the names of Abey and 
Alawy, or the Giant." — Asiat. Research, vol. i. p. 387. 

' See Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the senulchres in 
lJp])er Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered all over with hieroglyph- 
ns. in the mountains of Upper Egypt. 

4 ""^116 orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves."— Soimivi. 

'' ^jiviry mentions the pelicans upon Lake Mceris. 

n * 



12(> LALLA ROOKH. 

Those valleys and their fruits of gold 
Basking in Heaven's serenest light ; — 
Those group? of lovely date-trees bending 

Languidly their leaf-crowned heads, 
Like youthfal maids, when sleep descending 

Warns them to their silken beds ; ^ — 
Those virgin lilies, all the night 

Bathing their beauties in the lake, 
That they may rise more fresh and bright, 

When their beloved Sun's awake; — 
Those ruined shrines and towers that seem 
The reli'^s of a splendid dream ; 

Amid whose fairy loneliness 
Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, 
Nought seen but (v/hen the shadows, flitting 
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam,) 
Some purple-winged Saltana^ sitting 

Upon a column, motionless 
And glittering like an Idol bird ! — 
Who could have thought, that there, ev'n there. 
Amid those scenes so still and fair, 
The Demon of the Plague hath cast 
From his hot wing a deadlier blast, 
More mortal far than ever came 
From the red Desert's sands of flame ! 
So quick, that every living thing 
Of human shape, touched by his wing, 
Like plants, Avhere the Simoom hath passed, 
At once falls black and withering ! 

1 "The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, like that of? 
handsome woman overcome with sleep." — Dafard el Hadad. 

2 " That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with 
purple beak and leis, the natural and living ornament of the temples and 
l-alaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the st-.'eliness of its port, aa 
well as the brilliancy of its colors, has obtained the title of Sultana." — 
Sonntnt. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 127 

The sun went down on many a brow, 

Which, full of bloom and freshness then 
Is rankling in the pest-house now, 

And ne'er will feel that sun again. 
And, O ! to see the' unburied heaps 
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps — 
The very vultures turn away, 
And sicken at so foul a prey ! 
Only the fierce hycBna stalks ^ 
Throughout the city's desolate walks ^ 
At midnight, and his carnage plies : 

Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets 
The glaring of those large blue eyes^ 

Amid the darkness of the streets ! 

' Poor race of men ! " said the pitying Spirit, 

" Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall — 
' Some flowerets of Eden ye still inherit, 

" But the trail of the Serpent is over them all ! '' 
She wept — the air grew pure and clear 

Around her, as the bright drops ran ; 
For there's a magic in each tear, 

Such kindly Spirits weep for man I 
Just then beneath some orange-trees. 
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 



1 Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West Barbary when 
he was there, says, "The birds of the air fled away from the abodes of men. 
The hyaenas, on the contrary, visited the cemeteries," &c. 

2 •' Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turrred dark, till the dawn 
of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses, which this 
True and unclean people expose in the streets without burial, and who 
Hrmly believe that these animals are Falashta from the neighborinjr moun- 
tains, transformed by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in f- e dark 
in safety." — Bruce. 

3 Bruce. 



128 LALLA ROOKH. 

Were wantoning together, free. 
Lake age at play with infancy — 
Beneath that fresh and springing bower, 

CJose by the Lake, she heard the moan 
Of one who, at this silent hour, 

Had thither stolen to die alone. 
One who in life, where'er he moved 

Drew after him the hearts of many; 
Yet now, as though he ne'er were iovel, 

Dies here unseen, unwept by any ! 
None to watch near him — none to slake 

The fire that in his bosom lies. 
With ev'n a sprinkle from that lake, 

Which shines so cool before his eyes. 
No voice, well known through many a day^ 

To sp^ak the last, the parting word, 
Which, when all other sounds decay, 

Is still like distant music heard ; — 
That tender farewell on the shore 
Of this rude world, when all is o'er. 
Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
Puts off into the unknown Dark. 

Deserted yoath ! one thought alone 

Shed joy around his soul in death — 
That she, whom he for years had known. 
And loved, and might have called his own, 

Was safe from this foul midnight's breath, - 
Safe in her father's princely halls. 
Where the cool airs from fountain falls. 
Freshly perfumed by many a brand 
Of the SAveet Avood from India's land, 
Were pure as she whose brow they fanned 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 129 

But see — who yonder comes by stealth,^ 

This melancholy bower to seek, 
Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 

With rosy gifts upon her cheek ? 
'Tis she — far off, through moonlight dim, 

He knew his own betrothed bride. 
She, who would rather die with him. 

Than live to gam the world beside ! — 
Her arms are round her lover now. 

His livid cheek to hers she presses. 
And dips, to bind his burning brow, 

In the cool lake her loosened tresses. 
Ah ! once, hoAv little did he think 
An hour would come, when he should shrink 
With horror from that dear embrace, 

Those gentle arms, that were to him 
Holy as is the cradling place 

Of Eden's infant cherubim ! 
And now he yields — now turns away, 
Shuddering as if the venom lay 
All in those proffered lips alone — 
Those lips that, then so fearless grown. 
Never until that instant came 
Near his unasked or without shame. 
" O ! let me only breathe the air, 

'' The blessed air, that's breathed by thee, 
"And, whether on its wings it bear 

" Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me ! 
"There — drink my tears, while yet they fall — 

" Would that my bosom's blood were balm ! 



» This circumstance has been often introduced into poetry •, — by Vm 
dentins Fabricius/by Darwin, and lately, with very powerful effect by Mr 
\Vils(»n 



130 LALLA ROOKH. 

•'• And. well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, 

*' To give thy brow one minute's calm. 
*•' Nay, tm'n not from me that dear face — 

" Am I not thine — thy own loved bride — 
" The one, the chosen one, whose place 

''In life or death is by thy side? 
•' Think'st thou that she, whose only light, 

'•' In this dim world, from thee hath shone, 
" Could bear the long, the cheerless night, 

"That must be hers when thou art gone? 
"That I can live, and let thee go, 
•'"VMio art my life itself? — Xo, no — 
" When the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
•'Out of its heart must perish too! 
" Then turn to me, my own love, turn, 
" Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; 
" Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
" The last pure life that lingers there ! " 
She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
In charnel aus, or cavern-damp, 
So quickly do his baleful sighs 
Q^uench all the sweet light of her eyes. 
One struggle — and his pain is past — 

Her lover is no longer living ! 
One kiss the maiden gives, one last, 

Long kiss, which she expires in giving ! 

" Sleep," said the Peri, as softly she stole 
The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, 
As true as e'er warmed a woman's breast — 
" Sleep on, in visions of odor rest, 
"In balmier airs than ever yet stirred 
" The' enchanted pile of that lonely bird 



PARADISE AVD THE PERI. J3I 

•'Who sings at the last his o^ti death-lay,^ 
'' And in music and perfume dies away ! " 

Thus sa}"ing. from her hps she spread 

Unearthly breathings through the place, 
And shook her sparkling wi'eath; and shed 

Such lustre o'er each paly face. 
That like two lovely saints they seemed, 

Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
From their dim graves, in odor sleeping; 

While that benevolent Peri beamed 
Like their good angel, calmly keeping 

Watch o'er them till theii' souls would wakeu, 

But morn is blushing in the sky ; 

Again the Peri soars above, 
Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh 

Of pure, self-sacrificing love. 
High throbbed her heart, with hope elate, 

The Elysian palm she soon shcdl win. 
For the bright Spirit at the gate 

Smiled as she gave that offering in ; 
And she already hears the trees 

Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
Ringing m that ambrosial breeze 

That from the tlirone of Alla swells ; 
And she can see the starry bowls 

That lie around that lucid lake. 



» " In the East, thev suppose the Phoenix to have fiftv orifices in his biU 
H'hich are continued to his tail ; and that, after living one thousand veara 
be builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies 
through his fifty organ pi()es. flaps his wings with a relocitA- which sets fire 
to tlie wood, and consumes himself.'" — Richardson 



1 32 i. A L I. A R O O K H . 

Upon whose banks admitted Souls 

Their first sweet draught of glory take ! ^ 
But, ail ! even Peris' liopes are vain — 
Again the Fates forbade, again 
The' immortal barrier closed — " Not yet," 
The angel said as, with regret. 
He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 
" True was the maiden, and her story, 
"Written iii light o'er Alla's head, 
" By seraph eyes shall long be read. 
"But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 
" Of Eden moves not — holier far 
" Than ev'u this sigh the boon must be 
"That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee." 

Now, upon Syria's land of roses ^ 
Softly the light of Eve reposes, 
And. like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon; 
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, 

And whitens with eternal sleet. 
While simimer, in a vale of flowers. 

Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one, who looked from upper air 
O'er all the' enchanted regions there, 
How beauteous must have been the glow, 
The life, the sparkling from below ! 

' " On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made 
of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal 
wave." — From Chateanbrictnd' s Description of the Mahometan Paradise, 
in his Beauties of Chrvitianity. 

* Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and 
delicate species of rose, for which that country has been always famous ; — 
Mence, Suristan, the Land of Roses. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 133 

Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks 

Of golden melons on their banks, 

More golden where the sun-light falls ; — 

Gay lizards, glittering on the walls * 

Of ruined shrines, busy and bright 

As they were all alive with light ; — 

And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks 

Of pigeons, setthng on the rocks. 

With then" rich restless wings, that gleam 

Variously in the crimson beam 

Of the warm West, — as if inlaid 

With brilliants from the mine, or made 

Of tearless rainbows, such as span 

The' unclouded skies of Peristan. 

And then the mingling sounds that come. 

Of shepherd's ancient reed,'-^ with hum 

Of the v/ild bees of P.alestine,^ 

Banquetting through the flowery vales , 
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine. 

And woods, so full of nightingales."^ 

But nought can charm the luckless Peri ; 
Her soul is sad -^— her wings are weary — 
Joyless she sees the Sun look down 
On that great Temple, once his own,^ 



1 "The number of lizards 1 sa^v^ one day in the sreat court of the Temple 
Df the Sun at Bilbec amounted to many thousands ; the tiround. the walls, 
md stones of the ruined buildings, were covered with them." — Bnice. 

2 " The Syrinx or Pan's pipe is still a pastoral instrument in Sjria." — 
Ricssel. 

3 " Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or branches of 
trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said, (Psalm Ixxxi.,) 'honey out of 
the stomi rock.'" — Biirder's Oriental Customs. 

* "The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and p'easani 
woods, among which thousands of nightingales wiirble all togeL' e' *' — 
Thev^'not 

^ The Temple of the S-un at Baltiec. 



134 LALLA ROOKH 

Whose lonely columns stand sublimi, 
Flinging their shadows from on high, 

Like dials, which the wizard, Time, 
Had raised to count his ages by ! 

Yet haply there may lie concealed 

Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 
Some amulet of gems, annealed 
In upper fires, some tablet sealed 
With the great name of Solomon, 
Which, spelled by her illumined eyes, 
May teach her where, beneath the moon, 
In earth or ocean, lies the boon. 
The charm, that can restore so soon 
An erring Spirit to the skies. 

Cheered by this hope, she bends her thither ; 

Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, 

Nor have the golden bowers of Even 
In the rich West begun to wither ; — 
When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging 

Slowly, she sees a child at play, 
Among the rosy wild flowers singing, 

As rosy and as wild as they ; 
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes. 
The beautiful blue damsel-flies,^ 
That fluttered round the jasmine stems. 
Like winged flowers or flying gems; — 
And_ near the boy, who, tired with play, 
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, 



1 <. 



i'ou behold there a consideraWe number of a reir arkable species o( 
oeaut\uil insects, the elegance of whise appearance and their attire, pi*- 
cnred for them the name of Damsels.'' — Soiviini. 




" Then swift his haggard brow he turii'd 
To the fair child, who fearless sat." 

Pag^ 135. 



PABAPxSE AND THE PERI, 135 

She saw a wearied man dismount 

Front his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small imaret's rustic fount ^ 

Impatient fling him down to drink. 
Then swift his haggard brow he turned 

To the fair childj who fearless sat, 
Though never yet hath day-beam burned 

Upon a brow more fierce than that, — 
Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire. 
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire ; 
In which the Peri's eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ; 
The ruined maid — the shrine profaned — 
Oaths broken — and the threshold stained 
With blood of guests! — /Aere written, all, 
Black as the damning drops that fall 
From the denouncing Angel's pen, 
Ere Mercy weeps them out again 

Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
(As if the balmy evening time 
Softened his spirit) looked and lay, 
Watching the rosy infant's play : — 
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance 

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze. 
As torches, that have burnt all night 
Through some impure and godless rite. 

Encounter morning's glorious rays. 



» Iniaret. " hospice ou on loge et nourrit_ gratis, les pclerins pendani 
tixjit jours ■ — Toderini. translated by the Abl:"> de Couniatid. — See oJso 
CasttUan'$ \lcEurs des Othomans, torn. v. p. 145. 



36 LALLAROOKH. 

But. harlc 1 the vesper call to prayer, 

As slow the orb of daylight sets, 
Is rising sweetly on the air, 

From Syria's thousand minarets ! 
The boy has started from, the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his head. 
And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels,' with his forehead to the sonth, 
Lisping the' eternal name of God 

From Purity's own cherub mouth, 
And looking, while his hands and eyes 
Are lifted to the glowing skies, 
Like a stray babe of Paradise, 
Just lighted on that flowery plain, 
And seeking for its home again. 
O! 'twas a sight — that heaven — that child 
A scene, which might have well beguiled 
Even haughty Eblis of a sigh 
For glories lost and peace gone by ! 

And how felt Ae, the wretched Man 
Reclining there — while memory ran 
O'er many a year of guilt and strife, 
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, 



1 " Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on the road, or so 
em])loyed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still obliged 
to execute that duty 5 nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business 
they are then about, but pray immediately wlien tlie hour alarms them, 
whatever they are about, in that very place they chance to stan(4 on ; inso- 
much that when a janissary, whom you have to guard you up and down the 
city, hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn 
about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell his charge he must have 
patience for a while 5 when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the 
ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in the 
open market, which having ended, he leaps briskly up. sahites the person 
whom he undertook to convey, and renews his journey with the ni. Id ex 
pression of Gliell gohnnum glieil, or Come, dear, follow me.'' — Aaron Hill's 
Travels. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 137 

Nor found one sunny resting-place, 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace ? 

" There was a time," he said, in mild, 

Heart-humbled tones, '' thou blessed child ! 

'' When, young, and haply pure as thou, 

"I looked and prayed like thee — but now — " 

He hung his head — each nobler aim, 

Ai_d hope, and feeling, which had slept 
From boyhood's hour, that instant came 

Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept' 

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! 

In whose benign, redeeming flow 
Is felt the first, the only sense 

Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 

''There's a drop," said the Peri, ''that down frDin 

the moon 
" Falls through the withering airs of June 
" Upon Egypt's land,^ of so healing a power, 
" So balmy a virtue, that ev'n in the hour 
" That drop descends, contagion dies, 
"And health re-animates earth and skies! — 
" O, is it not thus, thou man of sin, 

''The precious tears of repentance fall? 
•* Though foul thy fiery plagues within, 

" One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all 1 " 

And now — behold him kneeling there 
By the child's side, in humble prayer, 



' The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Ivjvpl precisely on St 
John's day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect ol" stopping the 
piague. 



1 JJB L A L L A R O O K H . 

While the same sunbeam shines upon 
The guilty and the guiltless one, 
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 
The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! 

'Twas when the golden orb had set, 
While on their knees they lingered yet, 
There fell a light more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star, 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek. 
To mortal eye this light might seem 
A northern flash of meteor beam — 
But well the' enraptured Peri knew 
'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
From Heaven's Gate, to hail that tear 
Her harbinger of glory near ! 

'* Joy, joy forever ! my task is done — 

'•' The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won ! 

" O ! am I not happy ? I am, I am — 

" To thee, sweet Eden ! how dark and sad 
"Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,^ 

" And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! 

'' Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die 
' Passing away like a lover's sigh ; — 
''My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,^ 
" Whose scent is the breath of Eternity ! 

1 The Country of Delight — the name of a province in the kingdom ol 
Tinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of Jewels. 
Annberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan. 

2 The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Blahomet. 
See Sale's Prelim. Disc. — Tooba, says D'Herbelot, signihes beatitude, or 
eternal happiness. 



PARADISE AND THE PERI. 1139 

"Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone 

"In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief; — 
" O ! what are the brightest that e'er have blown, 
^' To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne,' 

"Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf! 
"Joy, joy forever! — my task is done — 
" The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won ! " 



1 Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Reran, as having seen 
the angel Gabriel '• by the lote-tree, beyond which there is no p;issing neai 
it is the Garden of Eternal Abode." This tree, say the conunciitators 
atands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the Throne of God. 



140 LALLA ROOKH. 



*'And this," said the Great Chamberlain, "is po 
etry ! this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, m 
comparison Avith the lofty and durable monuments 
of genius, is as the gold filagree-work of Zamara 
beside the eternal architecture of Egypt ! " After 
this gorgeous sentence, which, with a few more of 
the same kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and 
important occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy of 
the short poem just recited. The lax and easy kind 
of metre in which it was written ought to be de- 
nounced, he said, as one of the leading causes of the 
alarming growth of poetry in our times. If some 
check v/ere not given to this lawless facility, we 
should soon be overrun by a race of bards as numer- 
ous and as shallow as the hundred and twenty thou- 
sand Streams of Basra.' They who succeeded in 
this style deserved chastisement for their very suc- 
cess : — as warriors have been punished, even after 
gaming a victory, because they had taken the liberty 
of gaining it in an irregular or unestablished manner. 
What, then, was to be said to those who failed ? to 
those who presumed, as in the present lamentable in- 
stance, to imitate the license and ease of the bolder 
sons of song, without any of that grace or vigor 
which gave a dignity even to negligence; — who, 
like them, flung the jereed^ carelessly, but not, like 
them, to the mark; — "and who," said he, raising 
his voice to excite a proper degree of wakefulness in 
his hearers, " contrive to appear heavy and constrained 
in the midst of all the latitude they allow themselves. 



^ " It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned in ths 
time of Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to the number of one hundred 
and twenty thousand streams." — Ebn Haukal. 

2 The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exercise 5?ee (^a» 
teUun, Maeiirs des Othomans, torn. iii. p. 161. 



LALLA ROOKH. I4l 

liice one or* those young pagans that dance before the 
Princess, who is ingenious enough to move as if her 
hmbs were fettered, in a pair of the hghtest and 
loosest drawers of Masulipatam ! " 

It was but Httle suitable, he continued, to tlie 
grave march of criticism to follow this fantastical 
Peri, of whom they had just heard, through all her 
flights and adventures between earth and heaven ; 
but he could not help adverting to the puerile con- 
ceitedness of the Three Gifts which she is supposed 
to carry to the skies, — a drop of blood, forsooth, a 
sigh, and a tear ! How the first of these articles was 
delivered into the Angel's " radiant hand " he pro- 
fessed himself at a loss to discover; and as to the 
safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, such Pens and 
such poets were beings by far too incomprehensible 
for him even to guess how they managed such mat- 
ters. "But, in short," said he, "it is a waste of 
time and patience to dwell longer upon a thing so 
incurably frivolous, — puny even among its own 
puny race, and such as only the Banyan Hospital * 
for Sick Insects should undertake." 

In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inexo- 
rable critic ; in vain did she resort to her most elo- 
quent common-places, — reminding him that poets 
were a timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness was 
not to be drawn forth, like that of the fragrant grass 
near the Ganges, by crushing and trampling upon 

• "This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospital, as T 
had heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of animals that were either 
sick, lame, or infirm, through age or accident. On my arrival, there were 
presented to my view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment; in 
another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean straw for them to re 
pose on. .\bove stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and fiat, 
broad dishes for water, for the use of birds and insects." — J^arson's Travels. 

It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid approach 
ihem. and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other people. — See 



142 LALLAROOKH 

ihem ; * — that severity often extinguished every 
chance of the perfection which it demanded ; and 
that, after all, perfection was hke the Mountain of 
the Talisman, — no one had ever yet reached iti 
summit.^ Neither these gentle axioms, nor the still 
gentler looks with which they were inculcated, could 
lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen's 
eyebrows, or charm him into any thing like en- 
couragement, or even toleration, of her poet. Toler- 
ation, indeed, was not among the weaknesses of 
Fadladeen ; — he carried the same spirit into matters 
of poetry and of religion, and, though little versed in 
the beauties or sublimities of either, was a perfect 
master of the art of persecution in both. His zeal 
was the same, too, in either pursuit ; whether the 
game before him was pagans or poetasters, — wor- 
shippers of cows, or writers of epics. 

They had now arrived at the splendid city of 
Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent 
and numberless, where Death appeared to share equal 
honors with Heaven, would have powerfully affected 
the heart and imagination of Lalla Rookh, if |feel- 
ings more of this earth had not taken entire posses- 
sion of her already. She was here met by messengers, 
despatched from Cashmere, who informed her that 
the King had arrived in the Valley, and was himself 
superintending the sumptuous preparations that were 
then making in the Saloons of the Shalimar for her 
reception. The chill she felt on receiving this in- 
telligence, — which to a bride whose heart was free 
and light would have brought only images of affec- 



J *' A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, 
which in some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a 
strong odor." — Sir \V. Jones on tlie Spikenard of the Ancients. 

2 <'INear this is a curious hill, called Koh Talisni, the Mountain of tJie 
Talisman, because, according to the traditions of the country, n) persoB 
ever succeeded in gaining its summit." — Kinneir. 



LALLA ROOKH. 143 

lion and pleasure, — convinced her that her peacti 
was gone forever, and that she was in love, n-re- 
tnevably in love, Avith young Feramorz. The veil 
had fallen off in which this passion at first disguises 
itself, and to know that she loved was now as painful 
as to love icithout knowing it had been delicious. 
Feramorz, too, — what misery would be his, if the 
sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently allowed 
them should have stolen into his heart the same fatal 
fascination as into hers; — if, notwithstanding her 
rank, and the modest homage he always paid to it, 
even he should have yielded to the influence of those 
long and happy interviews, where music, poetry, the 
delightful scenes of nature, — all had tended to bring 
their hearts close together, and to waken by every 
means that too ready passion, which often, like the 
young of the desert-bird, is warmed into life by the 
eyes alone ! ^ She saw but one way to preserve 
herself from being culpable as well as unhappy, and 
this, however painful, she was resolved to adopt. 
Feramorz must no more be admitted to her presence. 
To have strayed so far into the dangerous labyrinth 
was wrong, but to linger in it, while the clew was 
yet in her hand, would be criminal. Though the 
heart she had to offer to the King of Bucharia might 
be cold and broken, it should at least be pure ; and 
slie must only endeavor to forget the short dream of 
happiness she had enjoyed, — like that Arabian shep- 
herd, who, in wandering ir.to the wilderness, cauglit 
a glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then lost them 
again forever ! ^ 

The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore was 
celebrated in the most enthusiastic manner. The 



* " The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their young hj ojilj 
looking a* them." — P. Vanslebe, lielat. d' Egypte. 

* See Sale's Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 481.. 



144 LALLA ROORH. 

Rajiis cind Omras in heu train, who had kept at a cer- 
tain distance during the journey, and never encamped 
nearer to the Princess than was strictly necessaiy foi 
her safeguard, here rode in splendid cavalcade through 
the city, and distributed the most costly presents to 
the crowd. Engines were erected in all the squares, 
which cast forth showers of confectionary among the 
people ; while the artisans, in chariots,^ adorned Avith 
tinsel and flying streamers, exhibited the badges of 
their respective trades through the streets. Such 
brilliant displays of life and pageantry among the 
palaces, and domes, and gilded minarets of Lahore, 
made the city altogether like a place of enchantment ; 
— particularly on the day when Lalla Rookh set 
out again upon her journey, when she was accom- 
panied to the gate by all the fairest and richest of the 
nobility, and rode along between ranks of beautiful 
boys and girls, who kept Avaving over their heads 
plates of gold and silver flowers,^ and then threw 
them around to be gathered by the populace. 

For many days after their departure from Lahore 
a considerable degree of gloom hung over the whole 
party. Lalla Rookh, vvho had intended to make ill- 
ness her excuse for not admitting the young minstrel, 
as usual, to the pavilion, soon found that to feign in- 
disposition was unnecessary ; — Fadladeen felt the 
loss of the good road they had hitherto travelled, and 
was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed mem- 
ory !) for not having continued his delectable alley of 
trees,*^ at least as far as the mountains of Cashmere ; 



1 Oriental Tales, 

2 Ferishta. " Or rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta from 
which this is taken, "small coins, stamped with the figure of a flower 
They are still used in India to distribute in charity, and, on occasion 
thrown by the purse-bearers of the great among the populace.'' 

3 The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore 

[)lanted with trees on each side This road is %jO leas'ies in length. It 
las " little pyramids or turrets," says Bermcr- "erected everv iialf league 



L A L L A K O O K H . I 4.J 

— while the Ladies, who had nothing now .o do all 
day but to be fanned by peacocks' feathers and listen 
to Fadladeen, seemed heartily weary of the life they 
led, and, in spite of all the Great Chamberlain's crit- 
icisms, were so tasteless as to wish for the poet again. 
One evening, as they were proceeding to their place 
of rest for the night, the Princess, who, for the freer 
enjoyment of the air, had mounted her favorite 
Arabian palfrey, in passing by a small grove, heard 
the notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a voice, 
vvhich she but too well knew, singing the followinj:^ 
words : — 

Tell me not of joys above, 
If that world can give no bliss, 

Truer, happier than the Love 
Which enslaves our souls in this. 

Tell me not of Houris' eyes ; — 
Far from me their dartgerons glow^ 

If those looks that light the skies 
Wound like some that burn below. 

Who, that feels what Love is here, 
All its falsehood — all its pain — 

Would, for ev'n Elysium's sphere, 
Risk the fatal dream again? 

Who, that midst a desert's heat 

Sees the waters fade away, 
Would not rather die than meet 

Streams again as false as they? 



to mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink to passengers, ind U 
Hater the young trees." 



146 LAL1\R00KH. 

The tone of melancholy defiance in \^hich these 
words were uttered, went to liALLA Rookh's heart ; 
— and, as she reluctantly rode on, she could not help 
feeUng it to be a sad but still sweet certainty, that 
Feramorz was to the full as enamored and miserable 
as herself. 

The place where they encamped that evening was 
the first delightful spot they had come to since they 
left Lahore. On one side of them was a grove 
full of small Hindoo temples, and planted with the 
most graceful trees of the East ; where the tama- 
rind, the cassia, and the silken plantains of Cey- 
lon were mingled in rich contrast with the high 
fan-like foliage of the Palmyra, — that favorite tree 
of the luxurious bird that lights up the chambers 
of its nest with fire-flies.^ In the middle of the 
lawn where the pavilion stood there was a tank 
surrounded by small mangoe-trees, on the clear cold 
waters of which floated multitudes of the beauti- 
ful red lotus ; ^ while at a distance stood the ruins of 
a strange and awful-looking tower, which seemed old 
enough to have been the temple of some religion no 
longer known, and which spoke the voice of desola- 
tion in the midst of all that bloom and loveliness. 
This singular ruin excited the wonder and conjectures 
of all. Lalla Rookh guessed in vain, and the all- 
pretending Fadladeen, who had never till this jour- 
ney been beyond the precincts of Delhi, was proceed- 
ing most learnedly to show that he knew nothing 
whatever about the matter, when one of the Ladies 
suggested that perhaps Feramorz could satisfy their 
curiosity. They were now approaching his native 



1 The Fiaya, or Indian Gross-beak. — Sir TV. Jones. 

2 " Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float multi- 
tudes of the beautiful red lotus: the flower is larger than that of the white 
water-lily, and is the most lovely of the nymphseas I have seen.'' — Mrs 
(rraham's Jo irnal of a Residence in India. 



LALLA ROOKH. 147 

mountains, and this tower might perhaps be a rehc 
of some of those dark superstitions, which had pre- 
vailed in that country before the light of Islam dawned 
upon it. The Chamberlain, who usually preferred 
his own ignorance to the best knowledge that any 
one else could give him, was by no means pleased 
with this officious reference ; and the Princess, too, 
was about to interpose a faint word of objection ; but 
before either of them could speak, a slave was de- 
spatched for Feramorz, who, in a very few minutes, 
made his appearance before them — looking so pale 
and unhappy in Lalla Rookh's eyes, that she re- 
pented already of her cruelty in having so long ex- 
cluded him. 

That venerable tower, he told them, was the re- 
mains of an ancient Fire Temple, built by tliose 
Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, who, many 
hundred years since, had fled hither from their Arab 
conquerors,^ preferring liberty and their altars in a 
foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or pei^ecu- 
tion in their own. It was impossible, he added, not 
to feel interested in the many glorious but unsuccess- 
ful struggles, which had been made by these ongmal 
natives of Persia to cast off the yoke of their bigoted 
conquerors. liike their own Fire in the Burning 
Field at Bakou,^ when suppressed in one place, they 
had but broken out with fresh flame in another ; and 
as a native of Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Valley, 
which had in the same manner become the prey of 
strangers,"^ and seen her ancient shrines and native 



1 ''On les voit persecutes par les Khalifes se retirer dans les montagne*" 
da Kerman: plusieurs choisirent pour letraite la Tartaric et la ("liiiie • 
d'autres s'arrut Tent sur les bords du Gauge, a I'est de Delhi." — iM. An- 
quetil. M^moires de i'Acadomie, torn. xxxi. p. 3^4^. 

2 The " Ager ardens " described by Kempfer, Amcsnitat. Exot. 

' " Cashmere (say its historians) had its own princes 4(HX) years oelore 
its conijuest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found some dit^culty to 
reduce this paradise of the Indies, situated as it is within such a fortresf o' 



143 LALLA KOOKH 

princes swept away before the march of lier intolerant 
invaders, he fek a sympathy, he owned, with the suf- 
ferings of the persecuted Ghebers, which every mon- 
ument hke this before them but tended more power- 
fully to awaken. 

It was the first time that Feramorz had ever ven- 
tured upon so much prose before Fadladeen, and it 

may easily be conceived what effect such prose as 
this must have produced upon that most orthodox and 
most pagan-liating personage. He sat for some min- 
utes aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, " Bigoted 
conquerors ! — sympathy with Fire-worshippers ! " ^ 
— while Feramorz, happy to take advantage of this 
ahnost speechless horror of the Chamberlain, proceed- 
ed to say that he knew a melancholy story, con- 
nected with the events of one of those struggles of 
the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab masters, 
which, if the evening was not too far advanced, he 
sliould have much pleasure in being allowed to relate 
to the Princess. It was impossible for Lalla Rookh 
to refuse : — he had never before looked half so ani- 
mated : and when he spoke of the Holy Valley, his 
eyes had sparkled, she thought, like the talismanic 
characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent 
was therefore most readily granted ; and Avhile Fad- 
ladeen sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason 
and abomination in every line, the poet thus began 
his story of the Fire-worshippers : — 



mountains, but its monarch, Yusef-Khan, was basely betrayed by his Om- 
rahs." — Pennant. 

' V'oltaire tells us that, in his Tragedy " Les Guebres,'' he vras generally 
supposed to have alluded to the Janseiiists. I should not be surprised if this 
itory of the Fire-worshippers were found capable of a similar d mblenes^ of 
application. 



THE FIRE-WORSIIIPPERS. 



^Tis moonlight over Oman's Sea;^ 

Her banks of pearl and palmy isles 
Bask in the night-beam beanteously, 

And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
'Tis moonlight in Harmozia's^ walls, 
And through her Emir's porphyry halls, 
Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
Of trumpet and the clash of zel,^ 
Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell ; — 
The peaceful sun, whom better suits 

The music of the bulbul's nest, 
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes, 

To sing him to his golden rest. 
All hushed — there's not a breeze in motion; 
The shore is silent as the ocean. 
If zephyrs come, so light they come. 

Nor leaf is stirred nor wave is driven; — 
The wind-tower on the Hmir's dome ^ 

Can hardly wm a breath from Jieaven. 



' The Persian Clulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores of 
Persia and Arahia. 

'^ The present (inmbaroon, a town on the I'ersian side of the Culf. 

3 A Moorish instrnnieiit of music. 

1 " At ( Ji)iiil>:ironn and oilier [)laces in Persia, they h.ave towers lor the 
ourpose of catchmj.' the wind, and cooling the houses." — Le liiuya 

13 * ^ 



150 LALLA ROOKH. 

Ev'ii he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 

Cahii, while a nation round him weeps; 

While curses load the air he breathes, 

And falchions from unnumbered sheaths 

Are starting to avenge the shame 

His race hath brought on Iran's^ name. 

Hard, heartless Cliief, unmoved alike 

'Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike ; — 

One of that saintly, murderous brood, 

To carnage and the Koran given, 
Who think through unbelievers' blood 

Lies their directest path to heaven ; — 
One, who will pause and kneel unshod 

In the warm blood his hand hath poured. 
To mutter o'er some text of God 

Engraven on his reeking sword ;^ — 
Nay, who can coolly note the line. 
The letter of those words divine, 
To which his blade, with searching art, 
Had sunk into its victim's heart ! 

Just Alla ! what must be thy look, 

When such a wretch before thee stands 

Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, — 

Turning the leaves with blood-stained hands. 

Arid wresting from its page sublime 

His creed of lust, and hate, and crime ; — 

Ev'n as those bees of Trebizond, 

Which, from the sunniest flowers that Had 



1 " Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia." — Asiat. Res 
Disc. 5. 

* *' On the blades of their scimitars come verse from the Koran is usually 
jiscribed." — Kussel 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 15] 

With their pure sinile the gardens round, 
Draw venom forth that drives men mad.^ 

Never did rierce Arabia send 

A satrap forth more direly great ; 
Never was Iran doomed to bend 

Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 
Her throne had fallen — her pride was crushed — 
Her sons were willing slaves, nor blushed, 
In their own land, — no more their own, — 
To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. 
Her towers, where Mithra once had burned. 
To Moslem shrnies — O shame! — were turned, 
Where slaves, converted by the sword, 
Their mean, apostate worship poured. 
And cursed the faith their sires adored 
Yet has she hearts, 'mid all this ill. 
O'er all this wreck high buoyant still 
With hope and vengeance ; — hearts that yet — 

Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays 
They've treasured from the sun that's set — 

Beam all the light of long -lost days! 
And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow 

To second all such hearts can dare ; 
As he shall know, well, dearly know, 

Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, 
Tranquil as if his spirit lay 
Becalmed in Heaven's approving ray. 
Sleep on — for purer eyes than thine 
Those waves are hushed, those planets shine ; 



•' ""riioie IS a kiml orRhododendros about Trebizond. whose flowers the 
bee teeds upon^ and tlie honey thence drives people mad." — Tournefmt. 



152 LALLA. ROOKH. 

Sleep on, and be thy rest unmoved 

By the white moonbeam's dazzhng pow5i ; 

None but the lovmg and the loved 
Should be awake at this sweet hour. 

And see — where, high above those rocks 
That o'er the deep their shadows fling, 
Yon turret stands ; — where ebon locks, 
As glossy as a heron's wing 
Upon the turban of a king/ 
Hang from the lattice, long and wild, — 
'Tis she, that Emir's blooming child. 
All truth and tenderness and grace, 
Though born of such ungentle race : — 
An image of Youth's radiant Fountain 
Springing in a desolate mountain ! ^ 

O, what a pure and sacred thing 

Is Beauty, curtained from the sight 
Of the gross v\^orld, illumining 

One only mansion with her light ! 
Unseen by man's disturbing eye, — 

The flower that blooms beneath the sea, 
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie 

Hid in more chaste obscurity. 
So, Hind A, have thy face and mind, 
Like holy mysteries, lain enshrined. 
And, O, what transport for a lover 

To lift the veil that shades them o'er! — 



• "Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers upon the right side 
as a badge ot'sovereifrntv." — Haniomj. 
\ 2 '' The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situated in sonic 
\ aark region of the East." — Kichardscm. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 153 

Like those who, all at once, discover 
In the lone deep some fairy shore, 
Where mortal never trod before, 

And sleep and wake in scented airs 

No lip had ever breathed but theirs. 

Beautiful are the maids that glide, 

On summer-eves, through Yemen's^ dales 
And bright the glancing looks they hide 

Behind their litters' roseate veils ; — 
And brides, as delicate and fair 
As the wliite jasmine flowers they wear. 
Hath Yemen in her blissful clime, 

Who, lulled in cool kiosk or bower,- 
Before tht;ir mirrors count the time,"^ 

And grow still love Her every hour. 
But never yet haih bride or maid 

In Arahv's gay Haram smiled. 
Whose boasted brightness would not fade 

Before Al Hassan's blooming child. 

1 Arabia Felix. 

2 " In the midsi of the garden is the chiosk. that is, a large room, coi i- 
monly beautified with a tine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine oi 
l.cn steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessaminos, 
and honeysuckles, make a sort of green wall 5 large trees are planted round 
this place, whicii is the scene of their greatest pleasures.'' — Lady M. W. 
Montagu. 

3 The women of the East are never without their looking-glasses. " In 
Barbary," says Sliaw, " they are so fond of their looking-glasses, which they 
bang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when, after 
the drudgery of the day, they are obliged to go two or three miles with 
pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch water." — Travels. 

In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on their thumbs. 
" Hence (and I'rom the lotus being considered the emblem of beauty) is the 
meaning of the following mute intercourse of two lovers before their pa 
ronts : — 

"'He, with salute of deference due, 
\ lotus to his forehead pressed ; 
hhe raised her mirror to his view, 

riipn turned it inward to her breast.' " 

Asiatic Miscellany, vol. ii. 



154 LALLA ROOKH. 

Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant's dream, yet not the less 
Rich in all woman's loveliness ; — 
With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
Dark Vice would turn abashed away, 
Blinded like serpents, when they gaze 
Upon the emerald's virgin blaze : ^ — 
Yet filled with all youth's sweet desires, 
Mingling the meek and vestal fires 
Of other v/orlds with all the bliss, 
The fond, weak tenderness of this ; 
A soul, too, more than half divine. 

Where, thro' some shades of earthly feeling. 
Religion's softened glories shine, 

Like light through summer foliage stealing. 
Shedding a glow of such mild hue, 
So warm, and yet so shadowy too. 
As makes the very darkness there 
More beaLitifiil than light elsewhere. 

Such is the maid who, at this hour. 

Hath risen from her restless sleep. 
And sits alone in that high bower, 

Watching the still and shining deep. 
Ah ! 'twas not thus, — with tearful eyes 

And beating heart, — she used to gaze 
On the magnificent earth and skies, 

Li her own land, in happier days. 
Why looks she now so anxious down 
Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 



1 " They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those 
Btones. (emeralds.) he '.m mediately becomes blind." — Ahmed ben Abdalaziz 
Treatise on Jewels. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 155 

Blackens the mirror of the deep? 
Whom waits she all this lonely night ? 

Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, 
For man to scale that turret's height! — 

So deemed at least her thoughtful sire. 

When high, to catch the cool night-air, 
After the day-beam's withering fire,^ 

He built her bower of freshness there, 
And had it decked with costliest skill, 

And fondly thought it safe as fair: — 
Think, reverend dreamer ! think so still. 

Nor wake to learn what Love can dare ; — 
Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
No charm in trophies won with ease ; — 
Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
Are plucked on Danger's precipice ! ^ 

Bolder than they, who dare not dive 

For pearls, bat when the sea's at rest. 
Love, in the tempest most alive, 

Hath ever held that pearl the best 
He finds beneath the stormiest water. 
Yes — Araby's unrivalled daughter, 
Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, 

There's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
Would climb the' untrodden solitude 

Of Ararat's tremendous peak,^ 

• " At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormns it is sometimes so hot, that thp/ 
people are obliged to lie all day in the water." — Marco Polo. ' 

2 This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. Struy s?ys, 
" I can well assure tlie reader that their opinion is not true, who supp ise 
this mount to be inaccessible." He adds, that " the lower part of ihe 
mountain is (doudy, misty, and dark, the middlemost part very cold, and 
like clouds of snow, but th(i upper regions perfectly calm." — It was on this 
mountain that the Ark was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, and 
part of it, they say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely a/'.counts 



156 LALLA ROOKH. 

And tbink its steeps, though dark and dread, 
Heaven's pathways, if to thee the y led ! 
E^'n now thon seest the flashmg spray, 
That hghts his oar's impatient way; — 
Ev'n now thou hear'st the sudden shock 
Of his swift bark against the rock, 
And stretchest down thy arms of snow, 
As if to hft him from below ! 
Like her to whom, at dead of night, 
The bridegroom, with his locks of liglit,^- 
Came, in the flush of love and pride, 
And scaled the terrace of his bride : — 
YvVhen. as she saw him rashly spring, 
And midway up in danger cling, 
She flung him down her long black hair, 
Exclaiming, breathless, " There, love, there ' ' 
And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 

The hero Zal in that fond hour, 
Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold, 

Now climbs the rocks to Hind a' s bower. 
See — light as up their granite steeps 

The rock-goats of Arabia clamber,^ 
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps. 

And now is in the maiden's chamber^ 



for: — " \Miereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hill did 
ever change or was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to be 
the reason" that the Ark has endured so long without being rotten." — See 
Carreri's Travels, where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount 
Ararat. 

In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Zal (a celebrated here 
of Persia, rema-kable for his white hair) comes to the terrace of his mis 
tress Rodahver at nisht, she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his 
ascent; — he, however, 'manages it in a less romantic way by fixing his 
crook in a projecting beam. — See Champion's Ferdosi. 
^ " On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea are rock-goats." — Alcbufir. 



THE F I R E - W O R S H I P P E R S . 15'' 

She loves — ]jut Knows not whom she loves. 

Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves, 

Some beauteous bird without a name, 
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze, 
From isles in the' undiscovered seas, 
To show his plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 
Will he thus fly — her nameless lover? 

Ali.a forbid ! 'twas by a moon 
As fair as this, while singing over 

Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,^ 
Alone, at this same witching hour, 

She first beheld his radiant eyes 
Gleam through the lattice of the bower, 

Where nightly now they mix their sighs 
And thought some spirit of the air 
(For what could waft a mortal there?) 
Was pausing on his moonlight way 
To listen to her lonely lay ! 
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind : 

And — tho', when terror's swoon had past, 
She saw a youth, of mortal kind, 

Before her in obeisance cast, — 
Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
Strange, awful words, — and gleams have broken 
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, 

O! she hath feared her soul was given 
To some unhallowed child of air, 

Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, 



' " Cnnun, espt^ce de psalterion, avec dcs cordes de boynux ; les damns 
c;i touchent dans le serrail. avec des docailles armces de pointes de cooc '' 
— Toderini, translated by De Cownand. 



L56 LA.LLA. ROOKH. 

Like lliose angelic youths of old, 

Who burned for maids of mortal montd 

Bewildered left the glorious skies, 

And lost their heaven for woman's L'ves 

Fond girl ! nor fiend nor angel he 

Who wooes thy young simplicity ; 

But one of earth's impassioned sons, 

As warm in love, as fierce in ire 
As the best heart whose current runs 

Full of the Day-God's living fire. 

Bat quenched to-night that ardor seems. 

And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow; — 
Never before, but in her dreams, 

Had she beheld him pale as now : 
And those were dreams of troubled sleep, 
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep , 
Visions, that will not be forgot, 

But sadden every waking scene, 
Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 

All withered where they once have been. 

" How sweetly," said the trembling maid, 
Of her own gentle "vjice afraid. 
So long had they m silence stood. 
Looking upon that tranquil flood — 
"How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 
" To-night npon yon leafy isle ! 
•' Oft, in my fancy's wanderings, 
"I've wished that little isle had wings, 
" And we, within its fairy bowers, 

"Were wafted off to seas unkno'.vn. 



^ 



THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. 159 

" WKere not a pulse should beat but ours, 

" And we might live, love, die alone ! 
" Far from the cruel and the cold. — 

" Where the bright eyes of angels only 
" Should come around us, to behold 

" A paradise so pure and lonely. 
•'Would this be world enough for thee?" — 
Playful she turned, that he might see 

The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
But v/hen she marked how mournfully 

His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; 
And, bursting into heart-felt tears, 
"Yes, yes," she cried, "my hourly fears, 
^' My dreams have boded all too right — 
" We part — forever part — to-night ! 
"I knew, I knew it could not last — 
*^'Tvvas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past! 
" O ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 

" I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
" I never loved a tree or flower, 

'' But 'twas the first to fade away. 
"I never nursed a dear gazelle, 

" To glad me with its soft black eye, 
" But Avhen it came to know me well, 

^And love me, it was sure to die ! 
"Now too — the joy most like divine 

" Of all 1 ever dreamt or knew, 
" To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 

" O misery ! must I lose that too ? 
" Yet go — on peril's brink we meet ; — 

"Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea— 
'•No, never come again — though sweet, 

" Though heaven, it may be death to thee. 




100 LALLA ROOK II. 

" Farewell — and blessings on thy way, 

''Where'er thou go'st, beloved stranger! 
" Better to sit and watch that ray, 
'' And think thee safe, though far away, 

" Than have thee near me, and in danger ! " 

" Danger ! — O, tempt me not to boast — " 
The youth exclaimed — "thou little know'st 
"What he can brave, who, born and nursed 
"In Danger's paths, has dared her worst; 
" Upon whose ear the signal-word 

" Of strife and death is hourly breaking ; 
" Who sleeps with head upon the sword 

" His fevered hand must grasp in waking. 
"Danger!" 

"Say on — thou fear'st not then, 
"And we may meet — oft meet again?" 

"O! look not so — beneath the skies 

" 1 now fear nothing but those eyes. 

" If aught on earth could charm or force 

"My spirit from its destined course, — 

" If aught could make this soul forget 

" The bond to which its seal is set, 

" 'Twould be those eyes; — they, only they, 

" Could melt that sacred seal away ! 

"But no — 'tis fixed — my awful doom 

"Is fixed — on this side of the tomb 

"We meet no more; — why, why did Heaven 

" Mingle two souls that earth has riven, 

" Has rent asunder wide as ours ? 

" O. Arab maid, as soon the Powers 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. IGl 

*' Of Light and Darkness may combine, 
'' As I be linked with thee or thine ! 

"Thy Father '' 

" Holy Alla save 

''His gray head from that lightning glance 1 
*'Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave; 

" Nor lives there mider heaven's expanse 
" One who would prize, would worship thee 
" And thy bold spirit, more than he. 
•' Oft when, in childhood, I have played 

" With the bright falchion by his side, 
" I've heard him swear his lisping maid 

" In time should be a warrior's bride. 
"And still, whene'er at Haram hours, 
" I take him cool sherbets and flowers, 
"He tells me, when in playful mood, 

" A hero shall my bridegroom be, 
" Since maids are best in battle wooed, 

"And won with shouts of victory! 
"Nay, tarn not from me — thou alone 
" Art formed to make both hearts thy own. 
"Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know'st 

"The' unholy strife these Persians wage: — 
"Good Heaven, that frown! — even now then 
glow'st 

" With more than mortal warrior's rage. 
"Haste to the camp by morning's light, 
" And, when that sword is raised in fight, 
" O, still remember. Love and I 
" Beneath its shadow trembling lie ! 
^ One victory o'er those Slaves of Fire, 
" Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 
14=* 



iC2 LALLA EOOKH. 



" Abhors 



"Hold, hold — thy words are death — " 

The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
His mantle back, and shoAved beneath 

The Gheber belt that round him clung.' — 
"Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
"All that thy sire abhors in me! 
"Yes — / am of that impious race, 

" Those Slaves of Fire who, morn and even. 
" Hail their Creator's dwelling-place 

" Among the livinor lights of heaven : ^ 
"Yes — / am of that outcast few, 
" To Iran and to vengeance true, 
" Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
" To desolate our shrines of flame, 
" And swear, before God's burning eye, 
" To break oar country's chains, or die ! 



1 "They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or girdle, as 
not to dare to be an instant without it."' — Grose's Voyage. — •' Le jeune 
liomme nia d'abord la chose ; mais, ayant ete depouilie de sa robe, et la 
large ceinture quil portoit comnie Ghebr."' &c. &:c. — D' Herbelot, art. 
Agduani. *• Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de I'lnde, les Guebres se 
ceignent tous d'"un cordon de laine.ou de poil de chameau." — Encyclapedie 
Francoise. 

D'flerbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 

2 " They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and 
hence their worship of that luminary."' — Hanicay. ''As to fire, the 
Ghebers place the spring-head of it in that globe of fire, the Sun. by them 
called Mythras, or Mihir, to which they pay the highest reverence, in grat- 
itude for the manifold benefits tio'vving from its ministerial omniscience. 
But they are so far from confounding the subordination of the Servant with 
the majesty of its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of sense or 
reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but consider it as a 
purely passive, blind instrument, directed and governed by the immediate 
mipression on it of the will of God 5 but they do not even give that luminary, 
all-glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst his works, reserving 
the first for that stupendous production of divine power, the mind of man." 
— Grose. The false charges brought against the religion of these people 
by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many of the truth of 
this ^\Titers remark, that •'•' calumny is often added to oppression, if but fo 
Ihe sake of justif;? ing it." 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 16*^ 

^' Thy Ligot sire, — nay, tremble not, — 

'' He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, 
^' With me is sacred as the spot 

" From which our fires of worship rise ! 
'' But know — 'twas he I sought that night, 

'' When, from my watch-boat on the sea, 
" I caught this turret's ghmmering Hght, 

" And up the rude rocks desperately 
"Rushed to my prey — thou know'st the rest — 
" I climbed the gory vulture's nest, 
" And found a trembling dove within ; — 
"Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 
" If Love hath made one thought his own, 
"That Vengeance claims first — last — alone I 
' O ! had we never, never met, 
" Or could this heart ev'n now forget 
"How linked, how bless'd we might have been, 
" Had fate not frowned so dark between ! 
" Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, 

" In neighboring valleys had we dwelt, 
" Through the same fields in childhood played, 

" At the same kindling altar knelt, — 
"Then, then, while all those nameless ties, 
"In which the charm of Country lies, 
'• Had round our hearts been hourly spun, 
" Till Iran's cause and thine were one ; 
" While in thy lute's awakening sigh 
^' I heard the voice of days gone by, 
" And saw, in every smile of thine, 
" Returning hours of glory shine ; — 
•* While the wronged Spirit of our Land 

"Lived, looked, and spoke her wrongs through 
th(;e, — 



164 LALLA ROOKH. 

"God! who could then this sword withstand? 

" Its very flash were victory ! 
"But now, — estranged, divorced forever, 
" Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ; 
" Our only ties what Love has wove, — 

"In faith, friends, country, sundered wids; 
" And then, then only, true to love, 

" When false to all that's dear beside ! 
"Thy father Iran's deadliest foe — 
"Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now — but no — 
" Hate never looked so lovely yet ! 

"No — sacred to thy soul will be 
'' The land of him who could forget 

" All but that bleeding land for thee. 
(" When other eyes shall see, unmoved, 

" Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, 
" Thoult think how well one Gheber loved, 
yj; And for his sake thou'lt weep for all ! 

"But look " 

With sudden start he turned. 

And pointed to the distant wave, 
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burned 

Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave ; 
And fiery darts, at intervals,^ 

Flew up all sparkling from the main, 
As if each star that nightly falls. 

Were shooting back to heaven again. 

"My signal lights! — I must away — 
" Both, both are ruined, if I stay. 



* "The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it ^^■a^ dark, used 7C 
ehoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some mcasare resem 
Uled lightning or falling stars." — Baumgartcn 




" Fiercely te broke away, nor stopp'd 
Nor look'd, but from the lattice dropp'd." 

Page 165. 



THE FIDIE- WORSHIPPERS. IGo 



rc 



Farewell — sweet life ! thou cling'st in vain — 
*' Now, Vengeance, I am thine again ! " 
Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped, 
Nor looked — but from the lattice di-opped 
Down 'mid the pointed crags beneath, 
As if he fled from love to death. 
While pale and mute young Hinda stood, 
Nor moved, till in the silent flood 
A momentary plunge below 
Startled her from her trance of woe; — 
Shrieking she to the lattice flew, 

"I come — I come — if m that tide 
(^ " Thou sleep'st to-night, PU sleep there too, 

" In death's cold wedlock, by thy side. 
" O ! I would ask no happier bed 

"Than the chiil wave my love lies under: — 
/ " Sweeter to rest together di-ad, 

( " Far sweeter, than to live asunder ! " 

But no — their hour is not yet come — 

Again she sees his pinnace fly. 
Wafting him fleetly to his home. 

Where'er that ill-starred home may lie ; 
And calm and smooth it seemed to win 

Its moonlight \vay before the wind. 
As if it bore all peace within, 

Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 



166 LALLA ROOKil. 



The Princ3ss, whose heart was sad enough already 
could have wished that Feramorz had chosen a less 
melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that 
tears are a luxury. Her Ladies, however, were by 
no means sorry that love was once more the Poet's 
theme ; for, whenever he spoke of love, they said, 
his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves 
of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb 
of the musician, Tan-Sein.^ 

Their road all the morning had lain through a very 
dreary country; — through valleys, covered with a 
low^ bushy jnngle, ^vhere, in more than one place, the 
awful signal of the bamboo staff,^ wath the white tlag 
at its top, reminded the traveller, that in that very 
spot, the tiger had made some human creature his vic- 
tim. It w^as, therefor.*, wath much pleasure that they 
arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and en- 
camped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth 
columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for 
natural temples of religion. Beneath this spacious 
shade, some pious hands had erected a row of pillars 
ornamented Avith the most beautiful porcelain,"^ wliich 



1 " Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument (at Gunlior) is 
a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a nmsician of incomparable skill, 
who flourished at the c<mrl of Akbar. The tomb is overshadoAved by a tree, 
concernino- which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewing of ils 
leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice" — Narrative of a 
Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by \V. Hunter, Esq. 

2 " It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo 
Btaff" of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a 
man. It is common for the passengers also to threw each a stone oi brick 
near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a good 
wagon-load is collected. The sight of these flags and piles of stones im 
parts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension." — 
Orie7ital Field Sports, vol. ii. 

3 "The Ficus Indies is called the Pagod-Tree and Tree of Councils; the 
firet, from the idols placed under its shade ; the second, because meetings 



1.ALLAROOKH. 1(37 

now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, 
as they adjusted their hair in descending from the 
palankeens. Here, while, as usual, the Princess sal 
listening anxiously, with Fadladeen in one of his 
loftiest nioods of criticism by her side, the young 
Poet, leanmg against a branch of the tree, thus con- 
tinued his story : — 



were held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the 
haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of 
fairies 5 in others are ei'ected beneath the shade pillars of stone or posts 
elegantly carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelaia to sup- 
ply the use of mir' ors." — Pennant. 



(i8 LALLA ROOKtt. 



4 



The morn hath risen clear and calm, 

And o'er the Green Sea ^ palely shiiiee, 
Revealing Bahrein's^ groves of palm, 

And lighting Kishma's ^ amber vines. 
Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
While breezes from the Indian Sea 
Blow ronnd Selama's ^ sainted cape, 

And curl the shining flood beneath, — 
Whose waves are rich with many a grape 

And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath. 
Which pious seamen, as the}^ passed. 
Had toward that holy headland cast — 
Oblations to the Genii there 
For gentle skies and breezes fair ! 
The nightingale now bends her flight^ 
From the high trees, where all the night 

She sung so sweet, with none to listen ; 
And hides her from the morning star 

Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
In the clear dawn, — bespangled o'er 

W^ith dew, whose night-drops would not stain 
The best and brightest scimitar ^ 
That ever youthful Sultan wore 

On the first morning of his reign. 

1 The Persian Gulf. — ''To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persiai. 
Gulf." — Sir W. Jones. 

2 Islands in the Gulf. 

^ Or Selemehj the genuine name of the headland at the enlrai ce of tho 
Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. '' The Indians, ^\hen they pass 
the promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea, to secure 
a propitious voyage." — Morier. 

4 " The nightingale sings from the pomesranate-groves il the diytime 
*nd from the loftiest trees at night." — RusstVs Aleppo. 

* In speaking of the .-limate of Shiraz. Francklin says, " The de ft is of 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. IG9 

And see — the Sun himself! — on wings 
Of glory up the East he springs. 
Angel of Light ! who, from the time 
Those heavens began their march sublime, 
Hath first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire ! 

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, 
When Iran, like a sun-flower, turned 
To meet that eye where'er it burned ? — 

When, from the banks of Bendemeer 
To the nut-guoves of Samarcand, 
Thy temples flamed o'er all the land ? 
Where are they ? ask the shades of them 

Who, on Cadessia's ^ bloody plains, 
Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
From Iran's broken diadem, 

And bind her ancient faith in chains : — 
Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
On foreign shores, unloved, imknown. 
Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates,- 

Or on the snowy Mossian mountains. 
Far from his beauteous land of dates, 

Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains : 
Yet happier so than if he trod 
His own beloved, but blighted, sod, 
Beneath a despot stranger's nod ! — 
O, he would rather houseless roam 

Where Freedom and his God may lead, 



9uch a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all 
aight, it would not receive the least rust." 

• The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and 
their ancient monarchy destroyed. 

2 Uerbend. — " Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir (Japi, Porte do 
If'er ; ce sont les Caspian Porta) des anciens." — D' Herbelot. 



9^ 



I/O LALLAROOKH. 

Than be the sleekest slave at home 
That crouches to the conqueror's creed! 

Is Iran's pride then gone forever, 

Gluenched with the flame in Mithra's caves ? 
No — she has sons, that never — never — 
WiU stoop to be the Moslem's slaves. 
While heaven has light or earth has graves; 
Spirits of fire, that brood not long. 
Bat flash resentment back for wrong ; 
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
Of vengeance ripen into deeds, 
Till, in some treacherons hour of calm, 
They burst, like Zeilan's giant palm,^ 
Whose buds fly open with a sound 
That shakes the pygmy forests round ! 

Yes, Emir! he, who scaled that tower, 

And, had he reached thy slumbering breast, 
Had taught thee, in a Gheber's pov/er 

How safe ev'n tyrant heads may rest — 
Is one of many, brave as he. 
Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; 
Who, though they know the strife is vain, 
Who, though they know the riven chain 
Snaps but to enter in the heart 
Of him who rends its links apart, 
Yet dare the issue, — bless'd to be 
Ev'n for one bleeding moment free, 
And die in pangs of liberty ! 



1 The T?Jpot or Talipot-tree. " Tins beautiful pa m-tree. which grows 
ci t.ie heart of the forests, may be classed amoncr tlie loftiest trees, and be- 
somes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its icafy summit 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPT.RS. 171 

Thou know'st them Avell — 'tis some moons smce 
Thy tm'baiied troops and blood-red flags, 

Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, 

Have swarmed among these Green Sea crags , 

Yet here, ev'n here, a sacred band, 

Ay, in the portal of that land 

Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own. 

Their spears across thy path have thrown ; 

Here — ere the winds half winged thee o'er — 

Rebellion braved thee from the shore. 



Rebellion! foul, dishonoring word, 

Whose wrongful blight so oft has stained 
The holiest cause that tongue or sword 

Of mortal ever lost or gained. 
How many a spirit, born to bless, 

Hath sunk beneath that withering nama 
Whom but a day's, an hour's success 

Had wafted to eternal fame ! 
As exhalations, when they burst 
From the warm earth, if chilled at first, 
If checked in soaring from the plain, 
Darken to fogs and sink again ; — 
But, if they once triumphant spread 
Their wings above the mountain-head. 
Become enthronf^d in upper air, 
And turn to sun-bright glories there ! 

And who is he, that wields the might 
Of Fresdom on the Green Sea brink, 



I'he sheath which then envelops the flower is very lar^e, and, when it 
oursts, makes an explosion lik'i the report of a cannon." — 'Fhvnbe'^. 



172 LALLA ROOKH. 

Belore ^yhJse sabre's dazzling light/ 

The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink ? 
Who comes, embowered in the spears 
Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers? — 
Those mountaineers that, truest, last, 

Cling to their country's ancient rites, 
As if that Godj whose eyelids cast 

Their closing gleam on Iran's heights, 
Among her snowy mountains threw 
The last light of his worship too ! 

'Tis Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 
Chills like the muttering of a charm ! — 
Shout but that awful name around. 

And palsy shakes the manliest arm. 
'Tis Hafed, most accmsed and dire 
(So ranked by Moslem hate and ire) 
Of all the rebel Sons of Fire ; 
Of whose malign, tremendous power 
The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, 
Such tales of fearful wonder tell, 
That each affrighted sentinel 
Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes, 
Lest Hafed in the midst should rise ! 
A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 
A mingled race of flame and earth. 
Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,^ 
Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 



1 " When the bright cimitars make the eyes of oiir heroes wink/' — Thi 
}Ioailakat, Poem of Amru. 

■^ Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adven».ures in 
Fairy-land among the Pens and Dives may be found in Richardson's curiou? 
Disseitation. The griffin Simoorgh. they say, took some {"eatliers from her 
breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned liis helmet, and trarsmi'.ted 
Viem afterwards to his descendants. 



THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. 17^ 

A feather from the mystic wings 

Of the Simoorgh resistless wore ; 
And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
Who groaned to see their shrines expire. 
With charms that, all in vain withstood, 
Would drown the Koran's light in blood ! 

Such were the tales, that won belief. 

And such the coloring Fancy gave 
To a young, warm, and danntless Chief, — 

One who, no more than mortal brave. 
Fought for the land his soul adored, 

For happy homes and altars free, — 
His only talisman, the sw^ord. 

His only spell-word. Liberty! 
One of that ancient hero line. 
Along whose glorious current shine 
Names that have sanctified their blood : 
As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
Is rendered holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its banks.^ 
'Twas not for him to crouch the knee 
Tamely to ^loslem tyranny ; 
'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast 
In the bright mould of ages past, 
Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
With all the glories of the dead. 



' This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from the '• cedar 
taints '* amons which it rises. 

In the Letfres Edifiantes. there is a different cause assigned for its name of 
Holy. ■' In these are deep caverns, which formerlv served as so manv cells 
Icr a grent number of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only 
V tnesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. The tears of these 
[ lO'.is penitents jrave the river of which we have just treated the name oi 
Uie Holy River." — See Chateaubriand's Beauties of CVristianity. 



174 LALLA ROOKH. 

Though framed for Iran's happiest years, 
Was born among her chains and tears ! — 
'Twas not for him to swell the crowd 
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed 
Before the Moslem, as he passed, 
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast — 
No — far he fled — indignant fled 

The pageant of his country's shame ; 
While every tear her children shed 

Fell on his soul like drops of flame ; 
And, as a lover hails the dawn 

Of a first smile, so welcomed he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 

For vengeance and for liberty ! 

But vain was valor — vain the flower 
Of Kerman, in that deathful hour, 
Against Al Hassan's whelming power. 
In vain they met him, helm to helm, 
Upon the threshold of that realm 
He came in bigot pomp to sway. 
And with their corpses blocked his way — 
In vain — for every lance they raised, 
Thousands around the conqueror blazed 
For every arm that lined their shore, 
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er, — 
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd, 
Before whose swarm as fast they bowed 
As dates beneath the locust cloud. 

There stood — -but one short league away 
From old Harmozia's suJtry bay — 



THE FIRE- WOK SHIPPERS. 175 

A. locky mountain, o'er the Sea 
Of Oman beetling awfully ; ^ 
A last and solitary link 

Of those stupendous chains that reach 
From tlie broad Caspian's reedy brink 

Down winding to the Green Sea beach 
Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
Like naked giants, in the flood, 

As if to guard the Gulf across; 
While, on its peak, that braved the sky, 
A ruined Temple towered, so high 

That oft the sleeping albatross^ 
Struck the wild ruins with her wing, 
And from her cloud-rocked skimbering 
Started — to find man's dwelling there 
In her own silent fields of air! 
Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
Dark welcome to each stormy wave 
That dashed, like midnight revellers, in ; — 
And such the strange, mysterious din 
At times throughout those caverns rolled, — 
And such the fearful wonders told, 
Of restless sprites imprisoned there. 
That bold were Moslem, who would dare. 
At twilight hour, to steer his skifl" 
Beneath the Gheber's lonely clilf."^ 

1 This mountain is my own creation, as the " stupendous chain," of 
which 1 suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the 
Persian Gulf. " This long and lofty ranf^e of mountains formerly divided 
Media from Assyria, and now forms the boundary of" the Persian and Turkish 
ampires. It runs parallel with the River Tisiris and Persian Gulf, and almost 
disappearing in the vicinity of Ciomberoon. (Hariiiozia.) seems once mi>re to 
'ise in the southern districts of Kerman. and i'ollowing an easterly course 
tiirough the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is entirely lost in the 
deserts of Sinde." — Kinnier's Persian Kmpire. 

2 These birds sleep in the air. Tiiey are most common about the ('ape 
of Good Hope. 

3 "There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, called KoheCiubr 



170 LALLA ROOKH. 

On the land side, those towers snblimc, 
That seemed above the grasp of Tune, 
Were severed from the haunts of men 
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, 
So fathomless, so full of gloom. 

No eye could pierce the void between : 
It seemed a place Avhere Gholes might come 
With their foul bancjuets from the tomb. 

And in its caverns feed unseen. 
Like distant thunder, from below, 

The sound of many torrents came, 
l\)o deep for eye or ear to know 
If 'twere the sea's imprisoned flow. 

Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
For, each ravine, each rocky spire 
Of that vast mountain stood on fire ; ^ 
And, though forever past the days 
Wfien God was worshipped in the blaze 
That from its lofty altar shone, — 
Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, 
Still did the mighty flame burn on,'^ 
Tl.ro' chance and change, thro' good and ill. 
Like its own God's eternal will, 
Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable ! 



or the (luebre's mountain. It. rises in the form of a lofty cupola, and oij 
"he summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Tem- 
,>le. It is superstitifvusly held to Le the residence of Deeves or Spritf-.s. and 
inany marvellous stories are rec .'itcd of the injury and witchcraft suffered 
by those who essayed in former viava to ascend or explore it." — Pottingers 
Beloochistan. 

^ The Ghebers generally build their temples over subterraneous fires. 

2 " At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appella 
tion of the Da'-iib Abadut, or Seat of lieligion, the Guebres are permitted to 
have an Atnsh Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they a.ssert, has had the sacred 
fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in tlieir own compartment of the city ; 
but for ihis indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance 
of the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five ruoecs each 
ir;uii "' — Fotti^iger's Beloochistan. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 17? 

Thither the vanquished Hafed led 

His little army's last remains; — 
" Welcome, terrific glen ! " he said ; 
^ Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread, 

'' Is Heaven to him who flies from chains ! " 
O'er a dark, narrow bridge- way, known 
To him and to his Chiefs alone, 
They crossed the chasm and gained the towers, — • 
"This home," he cried, "at least is ours; — 
" Here we may bleed, unmocked by hymns 

" Of Moslem triumph o'er our head ; 
" Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 

" To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
" Stretched on this rock, while vultures' beaks 
" Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, 
•'Here — happy that no tyrant's eye 
"Gloats on our torments — we may die!" — 

'Twas night when to those towers they came, 
And gloomily the fitful flame. 
That from the ruined altar broke. 
Glared on his features, as he spoke : — 
" 'Tis o'er — what men could do, we've done — 
' If Iran will look tamely on, 
" And see her priests, her warriors driven 

" Before a sensual bigot's nod, 
" A wretch who shrines his lusts in heaven, 

" And makes a pander of his God ; 
" If her proud sons, her high-born souls, 

"Men, in whose veins — O last disgrace! — 
'The blood of Zal and Rustam ^ rolls, — 

" If they will court this upstart race, 

• Ancient heroes of Persia. 



178 LALLA ROOKH. 

'' And turii from Mithra's ancient ray, 
^ To kneel at shrines of yesterday ; 
' If they will crouch to Iran's foes, 

"Why, let them — till the land's despair 
^ Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows 

" Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear ! 
' Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
' Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
' Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
' Back on his heart in drops of gall. 
' But Acre, at least, are arms unchained, 
' And souls that thraldom never stained ; — 

" This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
' Or satrap ever yet profaned ; 

"And though but few — though fast the ware 
' Of life is ebbing from our veins, 
' Enough for vengeance still remains. 
' As panthers, after set of sun, 
' Rush from the roots of Lebanon 
'Across the dark-sea robber's way,^ 
' We'll bound upon our startled prey ; 
^ And when some hearts that proudest swell 
* Have felt our falchion's last farewell ; 
' When Hope's expiring throb is o'ffr, 
'■ And ev'n Despair can prompt no more, 
' This spot shall be the sacred grave 
" Of the last few who, vainly brave, 
" Die foi the land the}' cannot save ! " 

His Chiefs stood round — each shining blade 
Upon the broken altar laid — 



' See Russet's account of the panther's attacking travei/ers in the nighl 
on thn se? -shore about the roots of Lebanon. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 179 

And though so wild and desolate 

Those courts, where once the Mighty sate ; 

Nor longer on those mouldering towers 

Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, 

With which of old the Magi fed 

The wandering Spirits of their Dead;^ 

Though neither priest nor rites were there 

Nor charmed, leaf of pure pomegranate ; * 
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air, 

Nor symbol of their worshipped planet ; -^ 
Yet the same God that heard their sires 
Heard them^ while on that altar's fires 
They swore ^ the latest, holiest deed 
Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, 
Should be, in Iran's injured name. 
To die upon that Mount of Flame — 
The last of all her patriot line, 
Before her last untrampled Shrine ! 

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew 
How many a tear their hijuries drew 
From one meek maid, one gentle foe. 
Whom love first touched with others' woe — 



1 " Among other ceremonies, the Magi used to place upon the tops ol 
high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed th€ 
Peris and the s>^"^irits of their departed heroes regaled themselves." — Rich- 
ardson. 

2 In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by 
Lord. '' the Daroo.'' he says, " giveth them water to drink, and a pome- 
granate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward unclean- 
Tiess." 

3 " Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in 
crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all tlie altars there 
are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, 
and when the sun ri?es. these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round 
with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer 
incense to the sun." — Rabbi Bejijamin. 

* " Xul d'entre eux oseroit se parjurer. quand il a pris k t^inoin ret 616. 
ment teriible et vengeur " — F icy elope die Fran^oiae. 



]80 LALLAROOKH. 

Whose life, as free from thought as sin, 

Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 

His talisman, and woke the tide. 

And spread its trembling circles wide. 

Once, Emir! thy unheeding child, 

'Mid all this havoc, bloomed and smiled, — 

Tranquil as on some battle-plain 

The Persian lily shines and towers,^ 
Before the combat's reddening stain 

Hath fallen upon her golden flowers. 
Light-hearted maid, unawed, unmoved. 
While Heaven but spared the sire she loved, 
Once at thy evening tales of blood 
Unlistening and aloof she stood — 
And oft, when thou hast paced along 

Thy Haram halls with furious heat. 
Hast thou not cursed her cheerful song, 

That came across thee, calm and sweet, 
Like lutes of angels, touched so near 
Hell's confines, that the damned can hear I 

Far other feelings Love hath brought — 
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, 

She now has but the one dear thought. 
And thinks that o'er, ahnost to madness ! 

Oft doth her sinking heart recall 

His words — ^'for my sake weep for all;" 

And bitterly, as day on day 
Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, 



*' A v\v d verdure sticcccds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields 
«Te covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow color." — RusseVsi 
Aleppo. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS 181 

She weens a lover snatched away 

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 
There's not a sabre meets her eye, 

But v/ith his life-blood seems to swim ; 
There's not an arrow wings the sky, 

But fancy turns its point to him. 
No more she brings with footsteps light 
Al Hassan's falchion for the fight ; 
And — had he looked with clearer sight, 
Had not the mists, that ever rise 
From a foul spirit, dimmed his eyes — 
He would have marked her shuddering frame. 
When from the field of blood he came. 
The faltering speech — the look estranged — 
Voice, step, and life, and beauty clianged — 
He would have marked all this, and known 
Such change is wrought by Love alone ! 

Ah ! not the Love that should have blessed 
So yomig, so innocent a breast ; 
Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, 
That, pledged on earth and sealed above, 
Grows in the world's approving eyes, 

In friendship's smile and home's caress, 
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 

Into one knot of happiness ! 
No, Hind A, no, — thy fatal flame 
Is nursed in silence, sorrow, shame ; — 

A passion, without hope or pleasure, 
In thy soul's darkness buried deep. 

It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure,— 
Some idol, without shri'ie or name, 
16 



182 LALLA ROOKH. 

O'er whirh its paJe-eyed votaries keep 
Unholy watch, while others sleep. 

Seven nights have darkened Oman's Sea, 

Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, 
She saw his Hght oar rapidly 

Hurry her Gheber's bark away^ — 
And still she goes, at midnight hour, 
To weep alone in that high bower. 
And watch, and look along the deep 
For him whose smiles first made her weep ; — - 
But watching, weeping, all was vain ; 
She never saw his bark again. 
The owlet's solitary cry. 
The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, 

And oft the hateful carrion bird, 
Heavily flapping his clogged wing. 
Which reeked with that day's banquetting — 

Was all she saw, was all she heard. 

'Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan's brow 
Is brightened Avith unusual joy — 

What mighty mischief glads him now, 
Who never smiles but to destroy ? 

The sparkle upon Herkend's Sea, 

When tossed at midnight furiously,^ 

Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh. 

More surely than that smiling eye ! 

"Up, daughter, up — the Kerna's^ breath 

" Has blown a blast would waken death, 

1 " It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend. that \\hen it ib 
tossed by tempestuous winds, it sparkles like fire." — Travels of Two Mo 
'lammi'dans. 

* A kind of trumpet; — it "was that used by Tamerlane, the sound o< 



r^' 

<^^'^' 




" And watch and look along the deep 
Tor him whose smiles first made her weep." 

Page 182. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 18*1 

'And yet thou sleep'st — up, cliild, and see 
" This blessed day for Heaven and me, 
"A da^ more rich in Pagan blood 
" Than ever flashed o'er Oman's flood. 
" Before another dawn shall shine, 
'"His head — heart — Hrabs — will all be mine; 
" This very night his blood shall steep 
'•These hands all over ere I sleep!" — 

^^ His blood!" she faintly screamed — her mind 
Still singling one from all mankind. — 
"Yes — spite of his ravines and towers, 
" Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 
" Thanks to all-conquering treachery, 

" Without whose aid the hnks accurs'd 
" That bind these impious slaves, would be 

" Too strong for Alla's self to burst ! 
'' That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
" My path with piles of Moslem dead, 
" Whose bafiiing spells had almost driven 
" Back from their course the Swords of Hcaveu, 
" This ni^ht, with all his band, shall know 
" How deep an Arab's steel can go, 
" When God and Vengeance speed the blow. 
" And — Prophet ! by that holy wreath 
" Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of death,^ 
" I swear, for every sob that parts 
*' In anguish from these heathen hearts, 



•vhich is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so .oud as to be heard at 
the distance of several miles." — Kicharcbson. 

' " Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one , the lattei 
of which, called Al Mawashah. the Hllet. wreath, or 'freathed gariand, he 
•v-.tre al the battle of O lod.'' — Universal History. 



184 LALLA ROOKH. 

"A gf^m from Persia's plundered mines 
" Sliall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. 
"But, ha! — she sinks — that look so wild — 
*' Those livid lips — my child, my child, 
" This life of blood befits not thee, 
" And thou must back to Araby. 

" Ne'er had I risked thy timid sex 
" In scenes that man himself might dread, 
*' Had I not hoped our every tread 

" Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 
-' Curs'd race, they ofFei swords instead ! 
*' But cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
" Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, 
" To-day shall waft "hee from the shore ; 
*' And, e'er a drop of this night's gore 
' Have time to chill in yonder towers, 
* Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers ' ' 

His bloody boast was all too true ; 
n^here lurked one wretch among the few 
Whom Hafed's eagle eye could count 
Around him on that Fiery Mount, — 
One miscreant, who for gold betrayed 
The pathway through the valley's shade 
To those high towers, where Freedom stood 
In her last hold of flame and blood. 
Left on the field last dreadful nighi, 
iVhen, sallying from their Sacred height, 
The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight, 
He lay — but died not with the brave; 
That sun, which should have gilt liis grave 
Saw hmi a traitor and a slave ; — 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 185 

And, while the few, who thence returned 

To their high rocky fortress, mourned 

For him among the matchless dead 

They left behind on glory's bed, 

He lived, and, in the face of morn, 

Laughed them and Faith and Heaven to scorn. 

O for a tongue to curse the slave, 

Whose treason, like a deadly blight, 
Comes o'er the councils of the brave. 

And blasts them in their hour of might ! 
May Life's unblessed cup for him 
Be dragged with treacheries to the brim, — 
With hopes, that but allure to fly, 

With joys, that vanish while he sips, 
liike Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye. 

But turn to ashes on the lips ! ^ 
His country's curse, his children's shame. 
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame. 
May he, at last, with lips of flame 
On the parched desert thirsting die, — 
While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh,^ 

* " They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which 
Dear very lovely fniit, but within are all full of ashes." — Tlievenot. The 
same is asserted of the oranges there ; v. Witmaiis Travels in Asiatic 
Turkey. 

" The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of tlie Dead Sea, is very re- 
markable on account of the considerable proportion of salt which it con- 
tains. In this respect it surpasses every other known water on the surface 
of the earth. This great proportion of bitter tasted salts is the reason why 
neither animal nor plant can live in this water.'' — Kluproth's Chemical 
Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, January, 
1813. Hassdquist. however, doubts the truth of this last assertion, as there 
are shell-fish to be found in the lake. 

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to^the fruits of the Dead Sea, in that 
wonderfui display of genius, his third Canto of Childe Harold, ^ magnifi- 
cent beyond any thing, perhaps, that ei^n he has ever written. 

* " The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused bV the rare- 
faction of the atmosphere from extreme heat •, and. which augments the de- 
'•-sion, it is most i'l-equent in hollov s. whero water might be e.xpecteJ to 



lSr> LALLA ROOKH. 

Are fading off, untouched, untasted, 
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! 
And, when from earth his spirit flies, 

Just Prophet, let the damned-one dwell 
Full in the sight of Paradise, 

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell ! 



odge. I hnve seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy 
js though It had boon the face of a clear and still lake." — I'ottinger. 

" As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapor in a plain, which the 
thirsty traveller thinkeih to be water, until when he r.ometh thereto he 
dcidcth i to be nothing." — Koran, chap, iM. 



LALLA ROOKH. 187 



Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been visited 
by a dream which, in spite of the impending fate of 
poor Hafed, made her heart more than nsaalJy cheer- 
ful durnig the morning, and gave her cheeks all the 
freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk 
has just passed over.^ She fancied that she was sail- 
ing on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gypsies. 
who live forever on the water, "^ enjoy a perpetual 
summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw 
a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one 
of those boats which the Maldivian islanders send 
adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with 
perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an ofl'ering 
to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At 
first, this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on 



commg nearer 



She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream 
to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the dooi' 
of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every 
thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the 



• " A ^\^nd which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a small and 
odoriferous tlower of that name." — '' The wind which blows these flowers 
commonly lasts till the end of the month." — Le Brwfn. 

• " The Biajus are of two races ; the one is settled on Borneo, and are a 
rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themsehes the original 
possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gypsies or 
itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual 
summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with 
the variations of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race 
resem^>le the natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually 
launcfi a small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, tlowers, and odoriferous 
wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering to 
the Spirit of the Witid^ ; and sometimes similar offerings are made to the 
spirit whom they term the Kinq of the Sea. In like manner the Biajus per- 
form their offering to the god of evil, launching a small bark, loaded with 
•ill the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imairined to fall on the 
•jnhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it.'" — Dr L'"y- 
ien on the Languages and Literature of the Indo-Chinese Nations 



18S LALLA KOOKH. 

Story was mstjAiitly requested by all. Fresh wood of 
aloes was set to burn in the cassolets ; — the violet 
sherbets ^ were hastily handed round, and after a short 
prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava,~ 
which is always used to express the lamentations of 
absent lovers, the Poet thus continued : — 



' " The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, par- 
ticularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar." — 
Hasselquist. 

" The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drank by the Grand Signior 
nimself, is made of violets and sugar." — Tavernier. 

2 " Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the measure 
called Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent 
lovers." —/*ersian Tales. 



THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. 18P 



The day is lowering — stilly black 
Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, 
Dispersed and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
Hangs like a shattered canopy. 
There's not a cloud in that blue plain 

But tells of storm to come or past ; — 
Here, flying loosely as the mane 

Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — 
There, rolled in masses dark and swelling, 
As proud to be the thunder's dwelling ! 
While some, already burst and riven, 
Seem melting down the verge of heaven; 
As though the infant storm had rent 

The mighty womb that gave him birth, 
And, having swept the firmament, 

Was now in fierce career for earth. 

On earth 'twas yet all calm around, 
A pulseless silence, dread, profound, 
More awful than the tempest's sound. 
The diver steered for Orjius' bowers. 
And moored his skifi" till calmer hours ; 
The sea-birds, with portentous screech, 
Flew fast to land ; — upon tlie beach 
The pilot oft had paused, with glance 
Turned upward to that wild expanse; — 
And all was boding, drear, and dark 
As her own wsoul, when Hinda's bark 



[{){) LALLA ROOKH. 

Went slowly from the Persian shore. — 
No music timed her parting oar/ 
Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
Lingered, to wave the unseen hand, 
Or speak the farewell, heard no more; — 
But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
Tiie vessdl tak(;s its mourufid way, 
Like some ill-destined bark that steers 
In silence through the Gate of Tears.'-* 

And where was stern Al Hassan then? 
Could not th;it saintly scourge of men 
From bloodshed and devotion s])are 
One mimite for a farewell there? 
No — close within, in changeful fits 
Of cursing and of prayer, lie sits 
In savage loneliness to brood 
Upon the coming night of blood, — 

With that k(MMi, second-scent of death, 
By which th(^ vulture snuifs his food 

In tlu; still warm and living bre.iih!^ 
While o'er the wave his weeping daughter 
Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, — 
As a yovmg biid of Babylon,'' 
liCt loose to U)\\ of victory won, 



' " The Easterns usod to set out on tlieir longer voyages with niusif-." — 
Hnnncr. 

2 " The (into ofTcars. tlie strnits or passa(f<^ into tlic \ivx\ Sea, commonly 
called Rahelnnndel. It received this name (Vom the old Arabians, o.i ac- 
count of tiie (iMiiyer ol" the nnvi^ation, and the iniml)(>r of shipwrecks l)V 
wliicli it wns distingnished ; which induced tliem to consider as d(>a,d, and 
to wear monrninif lor all who had \ur boldness to hazard the passa^' t through 
rt into the l*'lliiopic ocean." — l^ichordson. 

3 " I have be«Mi told that wluMisocver an animal falls down dead, one or 
more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear." — Pniintnf. 

* " 'IMiey fasten some writinji to the wings ff a Bagdat, or Babyloniao 
l>igeon.'' — 'J'ravvls of ccrluin Enf^lishmen 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 191 

Flies home, with wing, ah ! not unstained 
By the red hands that held her chained. 

And does the long-left home she seeks 

Light up no gladness on her cheeks? 

The flowers she nursed — the well-known groi es, 

Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 

Once more to see her dear gazelles 

Come bounding with their silver bells ; 

Her birds' new plumage to behold, 

And the gay, gleaming fishes count, 
She left, all filleted with gold, 

Shooting around their jasper fount. ; ' 
Her little garden mosque to see, 

And once again, at evening hour, 
To tell her ruby rosary,^ 

In her own sweet acacia bower. — 
Can these delights, that wait her now, 
Call up no sunshine on her brow ? 
No, — silent, from her train apart, — 
As if ev'n now she felt at heart 
The chill of her approaching doom, — 
She sits, all lovely in her gloom 
As a pale Angel of the Grave ; 
And o'er the wide, tempestuous wave. 
Looks, with a shudder, to those towers. 
Where, in a few short awful hours, 



> "The Empress of Jehnn-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame 
fish in her canals, some of which were nany years aflervvards known by 
fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them.'" — Hatris. 

* " Le Tespili.qui est un chapelet. compose de 99 petitcs bo lies d'agathe 
de jaspe. d'ambre, de corail. ou d'autre miti're precieuse. .'en ai vu un 
superbe au Seigrneur Jerpos ; il etoit de belles et grosses perles parfai;©* e* 
6gales, estim^ Irent^ mille piastres.'" — Todnini. 



192 LALLA ROOKH. 

Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run, 

Foul incense for to-morrow's sun ! 

'' Where art thou, glorious stranger ! thou, 

'• So loved, so lost, where art thou now ? 

" Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate'er 

" The' unhallowed name thou'rt doomed to beafj 

"Still glorious — still to this fond heart 

'• Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art ! 

'' Yes — Alla, dreadful Alla ! yes — 

" If there be wrong, be crime in this, 

" Let the black waves that round us roll, 

" Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, 

it Forgetting faith — home — father — all — 

'^ Before its earthly idol fall, 

"Nor worship ev'n Thyself above him — 

"For. O, so wildly do I love him, 

"Thy Paradise itself were dim 

" And joyless., if not shared with him ! " 

Her hands were clasped — her eyes upturned, 

Dropping their tears like moonlight ram ; 
And, though her lip, fond raver ! burned 

With words of passion, bold, profane, 
Yet was there light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes, 
W?iich showed, — though wandering earth 'vaid 
now, -7- 

Her spirit's home was in the skies. 
Yes — for a spirit pure as hers 
Is always pure, ev'n while it errs ; 
As sunshine, broken in the rill. 
Though turned astray, is sunshine still! 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS 193 

So wholly had her mind forgot 

All thoughts but one, she heeded not 

The rising storm — the wave that cast 

A moment's midnight, as it passed — 

Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 

Of gathering tumult o'er her head — 

Clashed swords, and tongues that seemed to vie 

With the rude riot of the sky. — 

But, hark! — that war-whoop on the deck — 

That crash, as if each engine there. 
Mast, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 

'Mid yells and stampings of despair ! 
Merciful Heaven ! what ca7i it be ? 
'Tis not the storm, though fearfully 
The ship has shuddered as she rode 
O'er mountain- waves — "Forgive me, God! 
•'Forgive me" — shrieked the maid, and knelt, 
Trembling all over — for she felt 
As. if her judgment-hour was near ; 
While crouching round, half dead with fear, 
Her handmaids clung, nor breathed, nor stirred — 
When, hark! — a second crash — a third — 
And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
Had riven the laboring planks asunder. 
The deck falls in — what horrors then! 
Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men 
Come mixed together through the chasm, — 
Some wretches in their dying spasm 
Still fighting on — and some that call 
" For God and Iran ! " as they fall ! 

Whose was the hand that turned away 
The perils of the' infuriate fray. 



194 LALLA ROOKH. 

And snatched her breathless from beneath 
This wilderment of wreck and death ? 
She knew not — for a faintness came 
Chill o'er her, and her sinking frame 
Amid the ruins of that hour 
Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, 
Beneath the red volcano's shower. 
But, O ! the sights and sounds of dread 
That shocked her ere her senses fled ! 
The yawning deck — the crowd that strove 
Upon the tottering planks above — 
The sail, whose fragments, shivering o'er 
The strugglers' heads, all dashed with gore, 
Fluttered like bloody flags — the clash 
Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 
Upon their blades, high tossed about 
Like meteor brands^ — as if throughout 

The elements one fury ran, 
One general rage, that left a doubt 

Which was the fiercer, Heaven or Man ! 

Once too — but no — it could not be — 

'Twas fancy all — yet once she thought^ 
While yet her fading eyes could see. 

High on the ruined deck she caught 
A glimpse of that unearthly form, 

That glory of her soul, — ev'n then, 
Amid the whirl of wreck and storm. 

Shining above his fellow-men. 
As, on some black and troublous night, 
The Star of Egypt,^ whose proud light 

* The meteors that Pliny calls " faces." 

2 "The brilliant Canopus, unseen m European climates." — Brown, 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 195 

rs^'ever hath beamed on those who rest 

In the White Islands of the West,^ 

Burns through the storm with looks of flame 

That put Heaven's cloudier eyes to sh£jne. 

But no — 'twas but the minute's dream — 

A fantasy — and ere the scream 

Had half-way passed her pallid lips, 

A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse 

Of soul and sense its darkness spread 

Around her, and she sunk, as dead. 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone ; 
When warring winds have died away, 
And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 
Fresh as if Day again were born. 
Again upon the lap of Morn ! — 
When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
And scattered at the whirlwmd's will, 
Hang floating in the pure air still, 
Filling it all with precious balm. 
In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 
And every drop the thunder-showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning-gem^ 
Whose liquid flame is born of them! 



* See Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the West. 

2 A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients Ceraunium, be 
cause it was supposed to be found in places where thunder had fallen 
Tertullian says it has a glittering appearance, as if there had been fire m it; 
and the author of the Diesertatron in Harris's Voyages supposes it to be 
the opal 



196 LALLA R00K3. 

When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, 
There blow a thousand gentle airs, 
And each a different perfume bears, — 
As if the loveliest plants and trees 
Had vassal breezes of their own 
To watch and wait on them alone, 
And waft no other breath than theirs : 
When the blue waters rise and fall. 
In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 
And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of lovers' hearts, when newly bless'd. 
Too newly to be quite at rest. 

Such was the golden hour that broke 

Upon the world, when Hind a woke 

From her long trance, and heard around 

No motion but the water's sound 

Rippling against the vessel's side, 

As slow it mounted o'er the tide. — 

But where is she ? — her eyes are dark. 

Are wildered still — is this the bark. 

The same, that from Harmozia's bay 

Bore her at morn — Avhose bloody way 

The sea-dog tracked ? — no — strange and now 

Is all that meets her Avondering view. 

Upon a galliot's deck she lies, 

Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, — 
No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes. 

Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. 
But the rude litter, roughly spread 
With war-cloaks, is her homely bed 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 197 

And shawl and sash, on javehns hung, 
For awnmg o'er her head are flung. 
Shuddering she looked around — there lay 

A group of warriors in the sun. 
Resting their limbs, as for that day 

Their ministry of death were done. 
Some gazing on the drowsy sea, 
Lost in unconscious reverie ; 
And some, who seemed but ill to brook 
That sluggish calm, with many a look 
To the slack sail impatient cast, 
As loose it flagged around the mast. 

Bless'd Alla ! who shall save her now ? 

There's not in all that warrior band 
One Ai'ab sword, one turbaned brow 

From her own Faithful Moslem land. 
Their garb — the leathern belt ^ that wraps 

Each yellow vest'^ — that rebel hue — 
The Tartar fleece upon their caps*^ — 

Yes — yes — her fears are all too true, 
And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, 
Abandoned her to Hafeu's power; — 
Hafed, the Gheber ! — at the thought 

Her very heart's blood chills within ; 
He, whom her soul was hourly taught 

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin, 
Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
To spread its blast, where'er he went. 



' ly Her helot, art. Agduini. 

2 " The (Juebres are known by a dark yellow color, which the men atfecl 
n their clothes." — Thevenot. 

* " The Kohih, or cap, worn by t.ie Persians, is made of the skm of the 
Jtieep of'l'artary." — Waring. 



198 LALLA ROOKH. 

And fling, as o'er our earth Le trod, 
His shadoAV betwixt man and God! 
And she is now his captive, — thrown 
In his fierce hands, ahve, alone ; 
His the infuriate band she sees, 
AU infidels — all enemies ! 
What was the daring hope that then 
Crossed her like lightning, as again. 
With boldness that despair had lent, 

She darted through that armed crowd 
A look so searching, so intent. 

That ev'n the sternest warrior bowed 
Abashed, when he her glances caught. 
As if he guessed whose form they sought? 
But no — she sees him not — 'tis gone, 
The vision that before her shone 
Through all the maze of blood and storm. 
Is fled — 'twas but a phantom form — 
One of those passing, rainbow dreams. 
Half, light, half shade, which Fancy's beams 
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
In trance or slumber round the soul. 

But now the bark, with livelier bound. 

Scales the blue wave — the crew's in motion. 

The oars are out, and with light sound 
Break the bright mirror of the ocean, 

Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 

And now she sees — with horror sees, 

Their course is toward that mountain-hold,^ 

Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, 

Where Mecca's ar^dless enemies 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 199 

Lie like beleaguered scorpions, rolled 
In their last deadly, venomous fold ! 
Amid the' illumined land and flood 
Sunless that mighty mountain stood ; 
Save where, above its awful head. 
There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, 
As 'twere the flag of destiny 
Hung out to mark where death would be ! 

Had her bewildered mind the power 
Of thought in this terrific hour. 
She well might marvel where or how 
Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow, 
Since ne'er had Arab heard or known 
Of path but through the glen alone. — 
But every thought was lost in fear. 
When, as their bounding bark drew near 
The craggy base, she felt the waves 
Hurry them toward those dismal caves, 
That from the Deep in windings pass 
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass ; — 
And loud a voice on deck commands 
To lower the mast and light the brands ! — 
Instantly o'er the dashing tide 
Within a cavern's mouth they glide. 
Gloomy as that eternal Porch 

Through which departed spirits go: — 
Not ev'n the flare of brand and torch 
Its flickering light could further throw 
Than the thick flood that boiled below. 
Silent they floated — as if each 
Sat breathless, and too awed f)r speech 



200 LALLA ROOKH. 

In that dark chasm, where even sound 
Seemed dark, — so sullenly around 
The goblin echoes of the cave 
Muttered it o'er the long black wave 
As 'twere some secret of the grave ! 

But soft — they pause — the current turns 

Beneath them from its onward track; — 
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 

The vexed tide, all foaming, back. 
And scarce the oars' redoubled force 
Can stem the eddy's whirling course ; 
When, hark ! — some desperate foot has sprung 
Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 
The oars are up — the grapple clings. 
And the tossed bark in moorings swings. 
Just then, a day-beam through the shade 
Broke tremulous — but, ere the maid 
Can see from whence the brightness steals, 
Upon her brow she shuddering feels 
A viewless hand, that promptly ties 
A bandage round her burning eyes ; 
While the rude litter where she lies, 
Uplifted by the warrior throng, 
O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 

Blest power of sunshine! — genial Day, 
What balm, what life is in thy ray ! 
To feel thee is such real bliss, 
That had the world no joy but this, 
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — 
[t were a woild loo exquisite 



THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. 201 

For man to leave it for the gloom, 
Th«i deep, cold shadow of the tomb. 
Ev'n HiNDA, though she saw not where 

Or whither wound the perilous road, 
Yet knew by that awakennig air, 

Which suddenly around her glowed. 
That they had risen from darkness then, 
And breathed the sunny world again I 

But soon tliis balmy freshness fled — 

For now the steepy labyrinth led 

Though damp and gloom — 'mid crash of boughs 

And fall of loosened crags that rouse 

The leopard from his hungry sleep. 

Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey. 
And long is heard, from steep to steep, 

Chasing them down their thundering way! 
The jackal's cry — the distant moan 
Of the hyasna, fierce and lone — 
And that eternal saddening sound 

Of torrents in the glen beneath, 
As 'twere the ever-dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! 
All, all is fearful — ev'n to see, 

To gaze on those terrific things 
She now but blindly hears, would be 

Relief to her imaginings ; 
Since never yet was shape so dread. 

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown, 
And by such sounds of horror fed, 

Could frame more dreadful of her own 



202 LALLA ROOKH. 

But does she dream? has Fear again 

Perplexed the workings of her brain, 

Or did a voice, all music, then 

Come from the gloom, low whispering near — 

"Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here?" 

She does not dream — all sense, all ear, 

She drinks the words, " Thy Gheber's here. * 

'Twas his own voice — she could not err — 

Throughout the breathing world's extent 
There was but 07ie such voice for her, 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! 
O, sooner shall the rose of May 

Mistake her own sweet nightingale, 
And to some meaner minstrel's lay 

Open her bosom's glowing veil,^ 
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 
A breath of the beloved one ! 

Though bless'd, 'mid all her ills, to think 

She has that one beloved near. 
Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink, 

Hath power to make ev'n ruin dear, — 
Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crossed 
By fears for him, is chilled and lost. 
How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
That one of Gheber blood should look. 
With aught but curses in his eye. 
On her — a maid of Araby — 



^ A frequent image among the orientaJ poets. "The nightingales war 
aied their enchanting notes, and rent tlie thin veils of the rose hud and th« 
'ose." — Jami 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 203 

A Moslem maid — the child of him, 

Whose bloody banner's dire success 
Hath left their altars cold and dim, 

And their fair land a wilderness ! 
And, worse than all, that night of blood 

Which comes so fast — O ! who shall stay 
The sword, that once hath tasted food 

Of Persian hearts, or turn its way ? 
What arm shall then the victim cover, 
Or from her father shield her lover? 

I ''Save him, my God!" she inly cries — 
''Save him this night — and if thine eyes 

"Have ever welcomed with delight 
" The sinner's tears, the sacrifice 

" Of sinners' hearts — guard him this night, 
" And here, before thy throne, I swear 
" From my heart's inmost core to tear 

"Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
" Linked with each quivering life-string there, 

" And give it bleeding all to Thee ! 
"Let him but live, — the burning tear, 
" The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear, 
'•' Which have been all too much his own, 

* Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. 
" Youth passed in penitence, and age 

" In long and painful pilgrimage, 

" Shall leave no traces of the flame 

"That wastes me now — nor shall his name 

" E'er bless my lips, but when I pray 

" For his dear spirit, that away 

* Casting from i+s angelic ray 



204 LALLA ROOKH. 

"The' ecl'pse of earth, he, too. may shme 
" Redeemed, all glorious and all Thine ! 
"Think — think what victory to win 
•'One radiant soul like his from sin, — 
'' One wandering star of virtue back 
" To its own native, heaven-ward track ! 
" Let him but live, and both are Thine, 

"Together thine — for, blessed or crossed, 
" Living or dead, his doom is mine, 

" And, if he perish, both are lost ! " 



LALIA ROOKH 205 



The next evening Lalla Rookh was entreated by 
ler Ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful 
Iream ; but tlie fearful interest that hung round the 
fate of Hind A and her lover had completely removed 
every trace of it from her mind; — much to the dis- 
appointment of a fair seer or two in her train, who 
prided themselves on their skill in interpreting vis- 
ions, and who had already remarked, as an unlucky 
omen, that the Princess, on the very morning after 
the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blossoms 
of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.^ 



'5 



Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than 
once broken out during the recital of some parts of 
this heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made 
up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat this 
evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the 
Poet resumed his profane and seditious story as fol- 
lows : — 



1 " Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable color to silk." — 
Rrmarks jn the Husbandry of Bengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indiac 
nuraes o' this flower. — Sir W. Jones. The Persians call it Gull. — 
Carreri. 



18 



206 LALLA ROOKH. 



To tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, 
That lay beneath that mountain's height 
Had been a fair, enchanting sight. 
'Twas one of those ambrosial eves 
A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — when the West 
Opens her golden bowers of rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 
Of some meek penitent, whose last. 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past. 
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven ! 

'Twas stillness all — the winds that late 

Had rushed through Kerman's almond groves 
And shaken from her bowers of date 

That cooling feast the traveller loves,^ 
Now, lulled to languor, scarcely curl 

The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream ; 
And her fair islets, small and bright, 
. With their green shores reflected there 
Look like those Peri isles of light, 

That hang by spell-work in the air. 



^ "In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees bv the 
wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or for 
travellers." — Ebn Haukal 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 207 

But vainly did those glories burst 
On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first 
The bandage from her brow was taken, 
And, pale and awed as those who waken 
In their dark tombs — when, scowling near, 
The Searchers of the Grave ^ appear, — 
She shuddering turned to read her fate 

In the fierce eyes that flashed aroand ; 
And saw those towers all desolate, 

That o'er her head terrific frowned, 
As if defying ev'n the smile 
Of that soft heaven to gild their pile, 
[n vain with mingled hope and fear. 
She looks for him whose voice so dear 
Had come, like music, to her ear — 
Strange, mocking dream ! again 'tis fled. 
And O, the shoots, the pangs of dread 
That through her inmost bosom run, 

When voices from without proclaim 
"Hafed, the Chief" — and, one by one. 

The warriors shout that fearful name ! 
He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 
How shall she dare to lift her head. 
Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare 
Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear? 
In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, 
Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, 
As in those hellish fires that light 
The mandrake's charnel leaves at night.^ 



1 The two terrible angels, Monklr and Nakir, who are called "the 
Searchers of the Grave" in the "Creed of the orthodox Maliomelans " 
givr.n by Ockley, vol. ii. 

' "The Arabians call the mandrake 'the Devil's candle,' on account •»' 
»t8 shining appearance in the niglit." — Richardson. 



208 LALIA ROOKH. 

How sliall she bear that voice's tone, 

At whose Icud battle-cry alone . 

Wliole squadrons oft in panic ran, 

Scattered like some vast caravan, 

When, stretched at evening round the well, 

They hear the thirsting tiger's yell ? 

Breathless she stands, with eyes ca':t down, 
Shrinking beneath the fiery frown. 
Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
Is flashing o'er her fiercely now ; 
Ar>d shuddering as she hears the tread 

Of his retiring warrior band. — 
Never was pause so full of dread : 

Till Hafed with a trembling hand 
Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, 
" HiNDA ; "-^that word was all he spoke. 
And 'twas enough — the shriek that broke 

From her full bosom, told the rest. — 
Panting with terror, joy, surprise, '' 

The maid but lifts her wondering eyes, 

To hide them on her Gheber's breast! 
^Tis he, 'tis he — the man of blood. 
The fellest of the Pire-fiend's brood. 
Hafed, the demon of the fight. 
Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, 
Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
And glorious as when first he smiled 
In her lone tower, and left such beams 
Of his pure eye to light her dreams. 
That she believed her bower had given 
Rest to some wanderer from heaven ! 



THE FIRE-VVORfHIPPERS. 209 

Moments there are, and this was one, 
Snatched hke a m mute's gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoom's eclipse — 

Or, like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crciter's burning lips, 

Su'eetening the very edge of doom! 
The past — the future — all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last ! 

Ev'n he, this youth — though dimmed and gon 

Each star of Hope that cheered him on — 

His glories lost — his cause betrayed — 

Iran, his dear-loved country, made 

A land of carcasses and slaves. 

One dreary waste of chains and graves ! — 

Himself but lingering, dead at heart, 

To see the last, long struggling breath 
Of Liberty's great soul depart, 

Then lay him down and share her death — 
Ev'n he, so sunk in wretchedness, 

With doom still darker gathering o'er him, 
Yet, in this moment's pure caress, 

In the mild eyes that shone before him, 
Reaming that blest assurance, worth 
All other transports known on earth. 
That he was loved — well, warmly loved — 
O ! in this precious hour he proved 
How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of woe ; — 
How ex(iuisite one single drop 
Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top 



210 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of misery's cup — how keenly quaffed, 
Tliough death must follow on the draught! 

She, too, while gazing on tliose eyes 

That sink into her soul so deep, 
Forgets all fears, all miseries, 

Or feels them like the Avretch in sleep, 
Whom fancy cheats into a smile, 
Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while ! 
The mighty Ruins where they stood, 

Upon the mount's high, rocky verge. 
Lay open towards the ocean flood. 

Where lightly o'er the illumined surge 
Many a fair bark that, all the day. 
Had lurked in sheltering creek or bay. 
Now bounded on, and gave their sails, 
Yet drippmg, to the evening gales ; 
Like eagles, when the storm is done, 
Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 
The beauteous clouds, though daylight's Stai 
Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 
Were still with lingering glories bright, — 
As if, to grace the gorgeous West, 

The Spirit of departing Light 
That eve had left his sunny vest 

Behind him, ere he winged his flight. 
Never was scene so formed for love ! 
Beneath them waves of crystal move 
In silent swell — Heaven glows above, 
And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell ike the wave, and glow like Heaven 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 211 

But ah! too soon that dream is past — 

Again, again her fear returns; — 
Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, 

More faintly the horizon burns, 
And every rosy tint that lay 
On the smooth sea hath died away. 
Hastily to the darkening skies 
A glance she casts — then wildly cries, 
^'- At night, he said — and, look, 'tis near — 

"Fly, fly — if yet thou lov'st me, fly — 
" Soon will his murderous band be here, 

" And I shall see thee bleed and die. — 
" Hush ! heard'st thou not the tramp of men 
"Sounding from yonder fearful glen? — 
" Perhaps ev'n now they climb the wood — 

"Fly, fly — though still the West is bright 
"He'll come — O! yes — he wants thy blood — 

"I know him — he'll not wait for night!" 

In terrors ev'n to agony 

She clings around the wondering Chief; — 
" Alas, poor wildered maid ! to me 

" Thou ow'st this raving trance of grief. 
" Lost as I am, nouglit ever grew 
"Beneath my shade but perished too — 
" My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 
" And nothing lives that enters there ! 
" Why were our barks together driven 
"Beneath this morning's furious heaven? 
" Why, when I saw the prize that chance 

" Had thrown into my desperate arms, — 
"* When, casting but a single glance 

" Upon thy pale and prostrate charms. 



£12 LALLA ROOKH. 

*'l \owed (though watching viewless o'er 

*' Thy safety through that hour's alarms) 
*'To meet the' unmanning sight no more — 
"Why have I broke that heart-wrung vow? 
* Why weakly, madly met thee now ? — 
"Start not — that noise is but the shock 

" Of torrents through yon valley hurled — 
"Dread nothing here — upon this rock 
" We stand above the jarring world, 
"Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 
" In gloomy safety, like the Dead ! 
" Or, could ev'n earth and hell unite 
" In league to storm this Sacred Height, 
"Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night, 
" And each o'erlooking star that dwells 
" Near God, will be thy sentinels ; — 
" And, ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow, 

" Back to thy sire " 

" To-morrow ! — no — 
The maiden screamed — " thou'lt never see 
"To-morrow's sun — death, death will be 
" The night-cry through each reeking tower, 
" Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour ! 
"Thou art betrayed — some wretch who knew 
" That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
"Nay, doubt not — by yon stars, 'tis true — 
" Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire ; 
" This morning, v/ith that smile so dire 
" He wears in joy, he told me all, 
" And stamped in triumph through our hall, 
" As though thy heart aire idy beat 
"Its. last life-throb ben«mth his ^eet ! 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 213 

' Good Heaven, how little dreamed 1 then 

" His victim was my own loved youth ! — 

f< Fly — send — let some one watch the glen — 

" By all my hopes of heaven, 'tis truth ! " 

O ! colder than the wind that freezes 

Founts, that but now in sunshine played, 
Is that congealing pang which seizes 

The trusting bosom, when betrayed. 
He felt it — deeply felt — and stood, 
As if the tale had frozen his blood. 

So mazed and motionless was he ; — 
Like one whom sudden spells enchant, 
Or some mute, marble habitant 

Of the still Halls of IshmoxNie ! ^ 

But soon the painful chill was o'er, 
And his great soul, herself once more, 
Looked from his brow in all the rays 
Of her best, happiest, grandest days. 
Never, in moment most elate. 

Did that high spirit loftier rise; — 
While bright, serene, determinate, 

His looks are lifted to the skies, 
As if the signal hghts of Fate 

Were shining in those awful eyes I 
'Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
In Iran's sacred cause is come ; 
And, though his life hath passed away 
Like lightning on a stormy day, 



' For an account of Ishmonie. the petrified city in Upper F.gypt. whf •» 't 
s s.ml there are many statues of men, women, tJcc., to be seeu to this '"ay 
^ee l*erri/s View off^" Levant 



314 L\LLAROOKH. 

Yel shall his death-hour leave a track 

Of glory, permanent and bright, 
To which the brave of after-times, 
The suffering brave, shall long look back 

With proud regret, — and by its light 

Watch through the hours of slavery's night 
For vengeance on the' oppressor's crimes. 
This rock, his monument aloft. 

Shall speak the tale to many an age ; 
And hither bards and heroes oft 

Shall come in secret pilgrimage, 
And bring their warrior sons, and tell 
The wondering boys where Hafed fell ; 
And swear them on those lone remahis 
Of their lost country's ancient fanes, 
Never — while breath of life shall live 
Within them — never to forgive 
The' accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
Hath left on Iran's neck a stain 
Blood, blood alone can cleanse again ! 

Such are the swelling thoughts that now 
Enthrone themselves on Hafed's brow ; 
And ne'er did Saint of Issa^ gaze 

On the red wreath, for martyrs twined, 
More proudly than the youth surveys 

That pile, which through the gloom behind; 
Half lighted by the altar's fire, 
Glimmers — his destined funeral pyie ! 
Heaped by his own, his comrades' hands, 

Of every wood of odorcus breath, 

' Jesus 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 2j5 

There, by the Fire-God's shr:iie it stands. 

Ready to fold in radiant death 
Tlie few still left of those who swore 
To perish there, when hope was o'er — 
The few, to whom that couch of flame, 
Which rescues them from bonds and sha^iic. 
Is sweet and welcome as the bed 
For their own infant Prophet spread, 
When pitying Heaven to roses turned 
The death-flames that beneath him burned ! ^ 

With watchfulness the maid attends 
His rapid glaiice, where'er it bends — 
Why shoot his eyes such awful beams ? 
What plans he now? what thuiks or dreams? 
Alas! why stands he musing here, 
When every moment teems with fear? 
''Hafed, my own beloved Lord," 
She kneeling cries — "first, last adored! 
" If in that soul thou'st ever felt 

" Half what thy lips impassioned swore, 
•'Here, on my knees that never knelt 

" To any but their God before, 
^'I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly — 
"Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 
"O haste — the bark that bore me hither 

"Can waft us o'er yon darkening sea 



• The Gliebers siy that when Abraham, their great Prophet, was throwr, 
into the fire by order of Nimrod. the flame turned instantly into " a bed of 
roFes, where the child swee'^lv renosed." — Tavemier. 

Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in Dion FrusctxiA 
Orat. 36, that, the love of wisdom and virtue leadinfj him to a solitary life 
upon a mountain, he found it one day all in a Hame. shining with celestial 
fire, out of which he came without any harm, and instituted certain sacri- 
fices to God, who, he declared, t en' appeared to him, — ?. Fatrick oc 
ELxodus. iii 2 



21(3 LALLA ROOKH. 

^^ *' East — west — alas, I care not whither^ 
" So thou art safe, and I \7ith thee ! 
" Go where we will, this hand in thine, 
/ " Those eyes before me smiling thus, 

' " Through good and ill, through storm and shine 
•"The world's a world of love for us! 
" On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell, 
*' Where 'tis no crime to love too well; — 
*' Where thus to worship tenderly 
" An erring child of light like thee 
''Will not be sin — or, if it be, 
^ " Where we may weep our faults away, 
\ " Together kneeling, night and day, 
*' Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, 
"And I — at any God's, for thine!" 

Wildly these passionate words she spoke — 

Then hung her head, and wept for shame ; 
Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke 

With every deep-heaved sob that cauie. 
While he, young, warm — O ! wonder not 
If, for a moment, pride and fame, 
His oath — his cause — that shrine of flame 
And Iran's self are all forgot 
For her whom at his feet he sees 
Kneeling in speechless agonies. 
No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 
Dawned in his soul, and threw her smile 
O'er hours to come — o'er days and nights, 
Winged with those precious, pure delights 
W^hich she, who bends all beauteous there, 
Was born to kindle and to share 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 21' 

A tear or two, which, as he bovred 

To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, 
First warned him of this dangerous cloud 

Of softness passing o'er his soul. 
Starting, he brushed the drops away. 
Unworthy o'er that cheek to stray ; — 
Like one who, on the morn of fight. 
Shakes from his sword the dews of night. 
That had but dimmed, not stained its light. 

Yet, though subdued the' unnerving thrill, 
Its warmth, its weakness lingered still 

So touching in each look and tone, 
That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
Half counted on the flight she prayed. 

Half thought the hero's soul was grown 

As soft, as yielding as her own, 
And smiled and blessed him, while he said — 
"Yes — if there be some happier sphere, 
" Where fadeless truth like ours is dear, — 
" If there be any land of rest 

" For those who love and ne'er forget, 
*' O ! comfort thee — for safe and bless'd 

" We'll meet in that calm region yet ! " 

Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
If good or ill these words rnipart. 
When the roused youth impatient flew 
To the tower-wall, where, high in view, 
A ponderous sea-horn,' hung, and blew 



' ''The shell called Siiinkos. common to India, Africa, and the Mpdi 
te.Tanean. and stir, ii^ed in many parts as a trumpet for binwms alarms or 
giving signals : it sends forth a deep and hollow sound." — I'cntiaiU. 



218 LALLA ROOKH. 

A signal, deep and dread as those 
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. — 
Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true 
Through life and death, that signal knew; 
For 'twas the' appointed warning blast, 
The' alarm, to tell when hope was past. 
And the tremendous death-die cast ! 
And there, upon the mouldering tower, 
Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour^ 
Ready to sound o'er land and sea 
That dirge-note of the brave and free. 

They came — his Chieftains at the call 
Came slowly round, and with them all — 
Alas, how few! — the worn remains 
Of those who late o'er Kerman's plains 
Went gayly prancing to the clash 

Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, 
Catching new hope from every flash 

Of their long lances in the sun. 
And, as their coursers charged the wind, 
And the white ox-tails streamed behind,^ 
Looking, as if the steeds they rode 
Were winged, and every Chief a God ! 
How fallen, how altered now ! how wan 
Each scarred and faded visage shone, 
As round the burning shrine they came: — 

How deadly was the glare it cast, 
As mute they paused before the flame 

To light their torches as they passed ! 



^ "The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels 
of long wliite hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, thaf are to be fuui;:J 
m some places of the Indies.'' — Thevenot. 



THE FIRE-W0RSHli>PER3. 219 

'Tvvas silence all — the youth hath planned 
The duties of his soldier-band ; 
And each determined brow declares 
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. 

But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 
And O, how soon, ye blessed eyes, 
That look from heaven, ye may behold 
Sights that will turn your star-fires cold ! 
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope. 
The maiden sees the veteran group 
Her litter silently prepare, 

And lay it at her trembling feet; — 
And now the youth, with gentle care, 

Hath placed her in the sheltered seat, 
And pressed her hand — that lingering press 

Of hands, that for the last time sever ; 
Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, 

When that hold breaks, is dead forever. 
And yet to her this sad caress 

Gives hope — so fondly hope can err! 
'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess — 

Their happy flight's dear harbinger ; 
'Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

'Twas any thing but leaving her. 

" Haste, haste ! " she cried, " the clouds grow dark 
" But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark ; 
"And by to-morrow's dawn — O bliss! 

"With thee upon the sun-bright deep, 
" Far off, I'll but remember this, 

" As some dark, vanished dream of sleep : 



220 lalla rookh. 

*' And thou " but ah! — he ansAvers not — 

Good Heaven! — and does she go alone? 
She now has reached that disme.l spot, 

Where, some hours since, his voice's tone 
Had come to soothe her fears and ills, 
Sweet as the angel Israfil's,^ 
When every leaf on Eden's tree 
Is trembUng to his minstrelsy — 
Yet now — O, now, he is not nigh. — 

" Hafed ! my Hafed ! — if it be 
" Thy will, thy doom this night to die, 

" Let me but stay to die Avith thee, 
"■ And I will bless thy loved name, 
" Till the last life-breath leave this frame 
"O! let our lips, our cheeks be laid 
'• But near each other while they fade ; 
" Let us but mix am parting breaths, 
'' And I can die ten thousand deaths ! 
" You too, who hurry me away 
"So cruelly, one moment stay — 

"O! stay — one moment is not much — 
"He yet may come — for Imn 1 pray — 
" Hafed ! dear Hafed ! — " all the v\^ay 

In wild lamentings, that would touch 
A heart of stone, she shrieked his name 
To the dark woods — no Hafed came: — 
No— hapless pair — you've looked your last : — 

Your hearts should both have broken then • 
The dream is o'er — your doom is cast — 

You'll never meet on earth again ! 

' " The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voi :f» of all God's crea- 
cares. ' — Side. 



THE FTRE- WORSHIPPERS. 2'ii 

Alas for him, who hears her cries ! 

Still half-way down the steep he stands. 
Watching with fixed and feverish eyes 

The glimmer of those burning brands, 
That down the rocks, with mournful ray, 
Light all he loves on earth away ! 
Hopeless as they who, far at sea. 

By the cold moon have just consigned 
The corse of one, loved tenderly, 

To the bleak flood they leave behind ; 
And on the deck still lingering stay, 
And long look back, with sad delay, 
To watch the moonlight on the wave, 
That ripples o'er that cheerless grave. 

But see — he starts — what heard he then? 

That dreadful shout! — across the glen 

Prom the land-side it comes, and loud 

Rings through the chasm ; as if the crowd 

Of fearful things, that haunt that dell. 

Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell. 

Had all in one dread howl broke out, 

So loud, so terrible that shout ! 

"They come — the Moslems come!" — he crieS; 

His proud soul mounting to his eyes, — 

'' Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam 

" Enfranchised through yon starry dome, 

" Rejoice — for souls of j'^ndred fire 

'' Are on the wing to join your choir ! " 

He said — and, light as bridegrooms bound 

To their young loves, reclimbed the steep 
And gained the Shrine — his Chiefs stood ror.nd — ■ 

Their SAVords, as with instinctive leap, 



222 LALLA ROOKH. 

Together, at that cry accurs'd, 

Had from their sheaths, Uke sunbeams, burst. 

And hark ! — again — again it rings ; 

Near and more near its echoings 

Peal through the chasm — O! who that then 

Had seen those listening warrior-men, 

With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame 

Turned on their Chief — could doubt the shame^ 

The' indignant shame with which they thrill 

To hear those shouts and yet stand still ? 

He read their thoughts — they were his own — 

" What ! while our arras can wield these blades, 
" Shall we die tamely ? die alone ? 

" Without one victim to our L^ades, 
" One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, 
'^ The sabre from its toil may sleep ? 
"No — God of Iran's burning skies! 
*' Thou scorn'st the' inglorious sacrifice. 
*'No — though of all earth's hope bereft, 
" Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. 
" We'll make yon valley's n^eking caves 

" Live in the awe-struck minds of men, 
" Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 

" Tell of the Gheber's bloody glen. 
'' Follow, brave hearts ! — this pile remains 
" Oar refuge still from life and chains : 
" But his the best, the holiest bed, 
'' Who smks entombed in Moslem dead ! " 

' Down the \ recipitous roc ks they sprung, 
While vigor, more than riuman, strung 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 223 

Each arm and heart. — The' exiikir.g foe 
Still through the dark defiles below, 
Tracked by his torches' lurid fire, 

Wound slow, as through Golconda's vale ^ 
The mighty serpent, in his ire. 

Glides on with glitterhig, deadly trail. 
No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
They know each mystery of the dell, 
So oft have, in their wanderings. 
Crossed the wild race that round them dwell, 

The very tigers from their delves 
Look ont, and let them pass, as things 

Untamed and fearless like themselves ! 

There was a deep ravine, that lay 

Yet darkling in the Moslem's way ; 

Fit spot to make invaders rue 

The many fallen before the few. 

The torrents from that morning's sky 

Had filled the narrow chasm breast-high. 

And, on each side, aloft and wild. 

Huge cliffs and toppling crags were piled, — 

The guards with which yonng Freedom lines 

The pathways to her mountain-shrines. 

Here, at this pass, the scanty band 

Of Iran's last avengers stand ; 

Here wait, in silence like the dead, 

And listen for the Moslem's tread 

So anxiously, the carrion-bird 

Above them flaps his wing unheard ! 



^ See Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad. 



221 LA.LLA ROOKH. 

They come — that plunge into the water 
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 
Now, Ghebers. now — if e'er your blacii^ 

Had point or prowess, prove them now — 
Woe to the file that foremost wades ! 

They come — a falchion greets each trow 
And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk, . 
Beneath the gory waters sunk, ' 

Still o'er their drowning bodies press 
New victims quick and numberless ; 
Till scarce an arm in Hafed's band, 

So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, 
But listless from each crimson hand 

The sword hangs, clogged with massacre 
Never Avas horde of tyrants met 
With bloodier welcome — never yet 
To patriot vengeance hath the sword 
More terrible libations poured ! 

All up the dreary, long ravine. 

By the red, murky glimmer seen 

Of half-quenched brands, tliat o'er the flood 

Lie scattered round and burn in blood. 

What ruin glares ! what carnage swims ! 

Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs, 

Lost swords tliat, dropped from many a hand, 

In that thick pool of slaughter stand ; — 

Wretches who wading, half on fire 

From the tossed brands that roimd them fly, 
'Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire ; — 

And some who, grasped by those that die, 
Sink woundless with them, smothered o'er 
In their dead brethren's gushing gore .' 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 2'^'i 

But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, 
Still hundreds, thousands more succeed ; 
Countless as towards some flame at night 
The North's dark insects wing their flight, 
And quench or perish in its light, 
To this terrific spot they pour — 
Till, bridged with Moslem bodies o'er, 
It bears aloft their slippery tread, 
And o'er the dying and the dead, — 
Tremendous causeway! — on they pass. 
Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas ! 
What hope was left for you ? for you. 
Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 
Is smoking in their vengeful eyes ; — 
Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, 
And burn with shame to find how few. 

Crushed down by that vast multitude, 
Some found their graves where first they stood ; 
While some with hardier struggle died, 
And still fought on by Hafed's side, 
Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
Towards the high towers his gory track : 
And, as a lion swept away 

By sudden swell of Jordan's pride 
From the wild covert where he lay,^ 

Long battles with the' o'erwhelming tide, 
So fought he back with fierce delay, 
And kept both foes and fate at bay. 



' •■' In this thicket, upon the banks of the Jordan, several sorts of wild 
oeasts are wont to harbor themselves, vvhose being washed out of the cover* 
ny the overflowings of the river, aave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah\, 
he shall come up like a lion from Uu swelling of Jordan.'^ — MoundrtWt 
Aleppo. 



22fi LALLA ROOKH. 

But whither now ? their track is lost, 

Their prey escaped — guide, torches gone 
By torrent-beds and labyrinths crossed, 

The scattered crowd rush blindly on — 
'' Curse on those tardy lights that wind," 
They panting cry, " so far behind ; 
" O for a bloodhound's precious scent, 
" To track the way the Gheber went ! " 
Vain wish — confusedly along 
They rush, more desperate as more wrong ; 
Till, wildered by the far-off lights, 
Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, 
Their footing, mazed and lost, they miss, 
And down the darkling precipic*^ 
Are dashed into the deep abyss ; 
Or midway hang, impaled on rocks, 
A banquet, yet alive, for flocks 
Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 
Reechoes with each horrible veil. 

Those sounds — the last, to vengeance dea.', 
That e'er shall ring in Hafed's ear, — 
Now reached him, as aloft, alone. 
Upon the steep way breathless thrown, 
He lay beside his reeking blade. 

Resigned, as if life's task were o'er, 
Its last blood-offering amply paid, 

And Iran's self could claim no more. 
One only thought, one lingering beam 
Now broke across his dizzy dream 
Of pain and weariness — 'twas she, 

His heart's pure planet, shining vet 



THE IIRE- WORSHIPPERS. 227 

Above the waste of memory, 

When all life's other lights were set. 
And never to his mind before 
Her image such enchantment wore. 
It seemed as if each thought that stained, 

Each fear that chilled their loves was past, 
And not one cloud of earth remained 

Between him and her radiance cast ; — 
As if to charms, before so bright, 

New grace from other worlds was given, 
And his soul saw her by the light 

Now breaking o'er itself from heaven ! 

A voice spoke near him — 'twas the tone 

Of a loved friend, the only one 

Of all his warriors, left with life 

From that short night's tremendous strife. — 

'' And must we then, my chief, die here ? 

" Foes round us, and the Shrine so near ! " 

These Avords have roused the last remains 

Of life within him — " What ! not yet 
'• Beyond the reach of Moslem chains ! " 

The thought could make e'en Death forget 
His icy bondage — with a bound 
He springs, all bleeding, from the ground, 
And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown 
Ev'n feebler, heavier than his own, 
And up the painful pathway leads. 
Death gaining on each step he treads. 
Speed them, thou God, who heard'st their vow ! 
They mount — they bleed — O, save them now — 
The crags are red they've clambered o'er, 
The rock-weed's dripping with their gor^ : — 



'^IS LALLA ROOKH. 

Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length, 
Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength ! 
Haste, haste — the voices of the B^oe 
Come near and nearer from below — 
One effort more — thank Heaven ! 'tis past, 
They've gained the topmost steep at last. 
And now they touch the temple's walls, 

Now Hafed sees the Fire divine — 
When, lo ! — his weak, worn comrade falls 

Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. 
" Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled ! 

" And must I leave thee withering here, 
" The sport of every ruffian's tread, 

" The mark for every coward's spear ? 
'' No, by yon altar's sacred beams ! " 
He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
Of the fallen Chief, and towards the flame 
Bears him along; — with death-damp hand 

The corpse upon the pyre he lays, 
Then lights the consecrated brand, 

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea. — 
*'Now, Freedom's God ! I come to thee," 
The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
Of triumph vaulting on the pile, 
In that last eff'ort, ere the fires 
Have harmed one glorious limb, expires ! 

What shriek was that on Oman's tide? 

It came from yonder drifting bark, 
That just hath caught upon her side 

The death-light — and again is dark. 



THE FIRE- WORSHIPPERS 229 

It is the boat — ah, why delayed ? — 
That bears the wretched Moslem maid ; 
Confided to the watchful care 

Of a small veteran band, with whom 
Their generous Chieftani woulc not share 

The secret of his final doom, 
But hoped vvhen Hinda, safe and free, 

Was rendered to her father's eyes, 
Their pardon, full and prompt, would be 

The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
Unconscious, thus, of Hafed's fate, 
And proud to guard their beauteous freight 
Scarce had they cleared the surfy waves 
That foam around those frightful caves, 
When the curs'd war-whoops, known so wbIL 
Came echoing from the distant dell — 
Sudden each oar. upheld and still, 

Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, 
And. driving at the current's will, 

They rocked along the whispering tide ; 
While every eye, in mute dismay, 

Was toward that fatal mountain turned, 
Wh'^re the dim altar's quivering ray 

As yet al) lone and tranquil burned. 

O ! 'tis not, Hinda, in the power 

Of Fancy's most terrific touch 
To paint thy pangs in that dread hour — 

Thy silent agony — 'twas such 
As those who feel could paint too well, 
But none e'er felt and lived to tell ! 
'Twas not alone the dreary state 
Of a lorn spirit, crushed by fate, 
20 



233 LALLA ROOKH. 

When, though no more remains to dread, 

The panic chill will not depart ; — 
When, though the inmate Hope be deed, 

Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart ; 
No — pleasures, hopes, affections gone, 
The wretch may bear, and yet live on. 
Like things, within the cold rock found 
Ahve, when all's congealed around. 
But there's a blank repose in this, 
A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
To the keen, burning, harrowing pain. 
Now felt through all thy breast and brain , — 
That spasm of terror, mute, intense, 
That breathless, agonized suspense, 
From whose hot throb, whose deadly acJiing, 
The heart hath no relief but breaking ! 

Calm is the wave — heaven's brilliant lights 

Reflected dance beneath the prow ; — 
Time was when, on such lovely nights, 

She who is there, so desolate now, 
Could sit all cheerful, though alone, 

And ask no happier joy than seeing 
That star-light o'er the waters thrown — 
No joy but that, to make her bless'd, 

And the fresh, buoyant sen^e of Being, 
Which bounds in youth's yet careless breast, — 
Itself a star, not borrowing light. 
But in its own glad essence brigh". 
How different now ! — but, hark, again 
The yell of havoc rings — brave men ! 
In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
On the bark's edge — in vain each hand 



THE FIRE-WOKSHIPPERS. 231 

Half draws the falchion from its sheath ; 

All's o'er — in rust yonr blades may he : — 
He, at whose word they've scattered death, 

Evr'n now, this night, himself must die ! 
Well may ye look to yon dim tower, 

And ask, and Avondering guess what means 
The battle-cry at this dead hour — 

Ah! she could tell you — she, who leans 
Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast. 
With brow against the dew-cold mast; — 

Too well she knows — her more than life. 
Her soul's first idol and its last, 

Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. 

But see — what moves upon the height? 
Some signal ! — 'tis a torch's light. 

What bodes its solitary glare ? 
In gasping silence toward the Shrine 
All eyes are turned — thine, Hinda, thine 

Fix their last, fading life-beams there. 
'Twas but a moment — fierce and high 
The death-pile blazed into the sky, 
And far away, o'er rock and flood 

Its melancholy radiance sent ; 
While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
Revealed before the burning pyre. 
Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 

Shrined in its own grand element ! 
" 'Tis he!" — the shuddering maid exclaims — 

But, while she speaks, he's seen no more j 
High burst in air the funeral flames. 

And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er * 



232 LALLA ROOKH. 

One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave , 
Then sprnng, as if to reach that blaze, 
Where still she fixed her dying gaze, 

And, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 
Deep, deep, — where never care or pain 
Shall reach her innocent heart again! 



Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! 

(Thns warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.) 
No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, 

More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee. 

O ! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, 
How light was thy heart till Love's witchery came 

Like the wind of the south ^ o'er a summer lute 
blov/ing. 
And hushed all its music, and withered its frame ! 

But long, upon Araby's green, sunny highlands, 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom 

Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Lslands, 
With nought but the sea-star'^ to light up her tomb 

And still, when the merry date-season is burning, ^ 
And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old, 



1 " This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they can 
never be tuned while it lasts." — Stephen's Persia. 

2 " One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish 
whicl the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night verv luminous, 
resembling the full moon surrounded by rays." — Mirza Abu Taleb. 

3 For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of their work their 
dances, and their return home from the palm-groves at the end of autumo 
with the fruits, see Kempfer, Amcenitat. Exot. 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 233 

The happiest there, from their pastime returning 
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 

The young village -maid, when with flowers she 
dresses 

Her dark, flowing hair for some festival day, 
Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, 

She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 

Nor shall Iran, beloved of her Hero! forget thee — 
Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start, 

Close, close by the side of that Hero she'll set thee, 
Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her heart 

Farewell — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 
With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep ; 

Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ; ^ 

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed chamber 
We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, 
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 

We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian ^ are spar- 
kling, 
And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 



' Some naturalists have imafiined that amber is a concretion of the tears 
ol birds. — See Trevoux, Chambers. 

* "The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the 
D'iod whereof shines as fire." — Strui 



234 LALLA ROOKH. 

Farewell- — farewell — until Pity's sweet fountain 
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, 
They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that 
mountair , 
They 11 weep for the Maiden who sleejs in this 
ware. 



LALLA ROOKU. 235 



The singular placidity with which Fadladeen 
Fiad listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious 
story, surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceed- 
ingly ; and even inclined towards him the hearts of 
these unsuspicious young persons, who little knew 
the source of a complacency so marvellous. The 
truth was, he had been organizing, for the last few 
days, a most notable plan of persecution against the 
Poet, in consequence of some passages that had fallen 
from him on the second evening of recital, — which 
appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain lan- 
guage and principles, for which nothing short of the 
summary criticism of the Chabuk ^ would be advisa- 
ble. It was his intention, therefore, immediately on 
their arrival at Cashmere, to give information to the 
King of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments of 
his minstrel ; and if, unfortunately, that monarch did 
not act with suitable vigor on the occasion, (that is, 
if he did not give the Chabuk to Feramorz, and a 
place to Fadladeen,) there would be an end, he 
feared, of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He 
could not help, however, auguring better both for 
himself and the cause of potentates in general ; and it 
was the pleasure arising from these mingled anticipa- 
tions that ditfused such unusual satisfaction through 
his features, and made his eyes shine out, like poppies 
of the desert, over the wide and lifeless wilderness of 
that countenance. 

Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in 
this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare him 
the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, when 
they assembled the following evening in the pavilion, 

^ " The application if whips or rods." — DuboU. 



236 LALLA ROOKH. 

and Lalla Rookh was expecting to see all the beau- 
ties of her bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity 
of criticism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian 
queen, — he agreeably disappointed her by merely 
saying, with an ironical smile, that the merits of such 
a poem deserved to be tried at a much higher tribunal ; 
and then suddenly passed off into a panegyric upon 
all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly his august 
and Imperial master, Aurungzebe, — the wisest and 
best of the descendants of Timur, — who, among other 
great things he had done for mankind, had given to 
him, Fadladeen, the veiy profitable posts of Betel- 
carrier, and Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief 
Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms,' and Grand 
Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Haram. 

Tliey were now not far from that Forbidden 
River,^ beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass ; and 
were repooing for a time in the rich valley of Hussun 
Abdaul, which had always been a favorite resting- 
place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to 
Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith. 
Jehanguire, been known to wander with his beloved 
and beautiful Nourmahal ; and here would Lalla 
RooKH have been happy to remain forever, giving up 
the throne of Bucharia and the world, for Feramorz 
and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But the time 
was now fast approaching when she must see him no 
longer, — or, what was still worse, behold him with 



1 Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of 
Persia, and calls him " formae corporis estimator." His business was, at 
stated periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regulation- 
girdle, whose limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If any of them 
outgrew this standard of shape, they were reduced by abstinence till thev 
came within proper bounds. 

2 The Attock. 

" Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab, which he 
called Attock, wnich means, in the Indian language. Forbidden ; for. by the 
superstition of the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to coss that ri /er." ~- 
Ooio's Hirdostan. 



LALLA ROOKH. 2^^ 

eyes whose every look belonged to another; and 
tiiere was a melancholy precionsness in these last 
moments, which made I er heart cling to them as it 
would to life. During the latter part ot' the journey, 
indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, iVom which 
nothing but the presence of the young miustrel could 
awake her. Like those lamps in tombs, which only 
light up when the air is admitted, it was only at his 
approach that her eyes became smiling and animaied. 
But here, in this dear valley, every moment appeared 
an age of pleasure ; she saw him all day, and was, 
therefore, all day happy. — resembling, she often 
thought, that people of Zmge,' who attribute the 
unlading cheertiilness they enjoy to one genial star 
that rises nightly over their heads.'- 

The whole party, indeed, seemed in then* liveliest 
mood duruig the tew days they passed in this delight- 
ful solitude. The young attendants of the Princess, 
who were here ahowed a much treer range than they 
could sately be indulged with in a less sequestered place, 
ran wild among the gardens, and bounded through 
the meadows, lightly as young roes over the aromatic 
plains of Tibet ; while Fadladeen, m addition to 
the spiritual comfort derived by him from a pilgrim- 
age to the tomb of the 8amt from whom the valley 
is named, had also opportunities of hidulging, in a 
small way, his taste for victims, by putting to death 



' •' Tlie inliihitants of this country (Zinjie) are ncvor ;nHiotcd with soil- 
ness or molanc holy ; on this subject the Sheikh Abu-al-Khtir-Azhari hixsi 
the tbllowiuij disticli : — 

" • Wlio is tJie inim without care or sorrow, (tell) that I imy nio my hand 
to him. 

*• • (toehold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow. troUcsome with tipsi 
uess and mirth.' 

•• The philosophers have discovered that the cause of this cheerfiilnesa 
proceeds from the influence of the star Soheil or C'anopus. which rises over 
'hem every niirht." — Kxtract /rom a Uto^j^raphical Persian Manu-icnpi 
'4iUtd It fi Ahiim. or the Seven Climates, transUited by W. Oitseley, Esq 
The star Soheil, or Canopus. 



238 LALLA ROOKH 

some hundreds of those unfortuna:?^ little lizards,' 
which all pious Mussulmans make it a point tc 
Kill, — taking for granted, that the manner in which 
the creature hangs its head is meant as a mimicry of 
the attitude in which the Faithful say their prayers. 

About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those 
Royal Gardens,- which had grown beautiful under 
the care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful 
still, though those eyes could see them no longer. 
This place, with its flowers and its holy silence, in- 
terrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds 
in its marble basins filled with the pure water of 
those hills, was to Lalla Rookh all that her heart 
could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and almost heav- 
enly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, 
*• It was too deHcious; "^ — and here, in listening to 
the sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading in his eyes 
what yet he never dared to tell her, the most ex- 
quisite moments of her whole life were passed. One 
evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana 
Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,'* who had so 
often wandered among these flowers, and fed with 
her own hands, in those marble basins, the small, 
shining fishes of which she was so fond,^ — the 

1 " The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The Turks kill it, for 
they imagine that by declininor the head it mimics them when they say 
their prayers." — llM^stlquist. 

2 For these particulars repecting Hussun Abdaul I am indebted to the 
very interesting Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone's work upon Caubul. 

J^ 3 '• As you enter at that Bazar, without the gate of Damascus, you see the 
Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple faced with green glazed 
bricks, which render it very resplendent; it is covered at top with a pa- 
vilion of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made in that 
place, because Mahomet, being come so far, would not enter the town, say- 
mg it was too delicious." — Thevenot. This reminds one of the following 
pretty passage in Isaac Walton : — '' When I sat last on this primrose bank, 
and looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Char.'t-s the Km- 
peror did of the city of Horence, 'that they were too pleasant to be looked 
on, but only on holidays.' " 

4 Nourmahal signifies Light of the Harara She was aftervvards caUec 
\ourjehan, or the Light of the VVo'*ld 

* See note p. 191 



LALLA ROOKH. 239 

youth, in order to delay the moment of separation 
proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, of 
which this adored SuUana was the heroine. It re- 
lated, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers' 
quarrel which took place between her and the Emper- 
or during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere ; and u^ould 
remind the Princess of that difference between Ha- 
roun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida,^ which 
was so happily made up by the soft strains of the 
musician, Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be 
told in song, and Feramorz had unluckily forgotten 
his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of 
Lalla Rookh's little Persian slave, and thus be- 
gan : — 



1 " Haroun Al Raschid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassides, s'etant un jour 
brouille avec une de ses maitresses nommee Maridah, qix'il aimoit cepen- 
dant jubqu'a I'exces, et cette mesintelligence ayant deja duree quelque 
tems commen<;a a s'ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, son favori, qui s'en apper- 
cut, commanda a Abbas ben Ahnaf. excellent poPle de ce tems la, de com- 

f»oser quelques vers sur le sujet de celte brouDlerie. Ce poete exocuta 
'ordre de Giafar, qui fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en presence du 
Klialiie, et ce prince fut tellement touch*; de la tendresse des vers du porte 
et de ^a douceur de la voix du musicien cu'il alia aussi-t6t trouver Maiidah 
et lit sa pais avec elle." — D' Herbelot. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM 



Wuo has not heard of the vale of Cashmere. 

With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,' 
Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 

As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? 

O! to see it at sunset, — when warm o'er the Lake 

Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws, 
Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingering to take 
A last look of her mirror at nisht ere she eoes ! — 
? shrines thi 
half shown. 



When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming 



And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. 
Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells, 

Here the ^lagian his urn, full of perfume, is 
swinging, 
And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 

Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is 
ringing.^ 
Or to see it by moonlight, — when mellowly shines 
Tlie light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines ; 
When the waterfalls gleam, like a quick fall of stars. 
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars 

1 '•' The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of odor, has Jong 
been proverbiil in the East." — Forster. 

- " Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded nnth ravishing 
nrjelody." — Song of Jayadeva. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 241 

Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
From the cool shinmg walks where the young peo- 
ple meet. — 
Or at morn, when the magic of dayligpit awakes 
A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, 
Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one 
Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. 
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, 
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away : 
And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like, a lover 
The young aspen-trees,^ till they tremble all over. 
When the East is as warm as the light of first 
hopes, 
And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurled, 
Shines in through the mountainous portal^ that 
opes, 
Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world ! 



But never yet, by night or day, 
In dew of spring or summer's ray, 
Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 
As now it shines — all love and light, 
Visions by day and feasts by night ! 
A happier smile illumes each brow, 

With quicker spread each heart uncloses, 
And all is ecstasy, — for now 

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses : ^ 
The joyous time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round, and, in their shower, 

• " The little isles in the Lake of Cacheinire are set with arbors and 
large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall." — Bernier. 

2 " The Tuckt Suliinan, the name bestowed by tha Mahometans on 
this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the Lake " — Forsler. 

^ '* The F'east of Roses continues the whole time of their remaining iq 
bloom." — See Pietro de la Valle. 



242 L,ALLA ROOKH. 

Hearts open, like the Season's Rose,— 
The Floweret of a hundred leaves/ 

Expanding while the dew-fall flows, 
And every leaf its balm receives. 

'Twas when the hour of eTening came 

Upon the Lake, serene and cool, 
When Day had hid his sultry flame 
Behind the palms of Baramoule,^ 
When maids began to lift their heads. 
Refreshed, from their embroidered beds, 
Where they had slept the sun away. 
And waked to moonlight and to play. 
All were abroad — the busiest hive 
On Bela's^ hills is less alive, 
When saflron-beds are full in flower. 
Than looked the Valley in that hour. 
A thousand restless torches played 
Through every grove and island shade; 
A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
On every dome and minaret ; 
And fields and pathways, far and near, 
Were lighted by a blaze so clear, 
That yon could see, in wandering round, 
The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
Yet did the maids and matrons leave 
Their veils at home, that brilliant eve ; 
And there were glancing eyes about. 
And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 
In open day, but thought they might 
Look lovely then, because 'twas night. 

1 " Gul sad berl? . the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a particulai 
■pecies " — Ouseley. 2 Bemier. 

3 A p .ace mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of Jehangmre 
where there is an account of the beds of saffron-flowers about Caahmcro 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 243 

A.]id all were free, and wandering, 

And all exclaimed to all they met, 
That never did the summer bring 

So gay a Feast of Roses yet ; — 
The moon had never shed a light 

So clear as that which bless'd them thore ; 
The roses ne'er shone half so bright, 

Nor they themselves looked half so fair. 

And what a wilderness of flowers ! 

It seemed as though from all the bowers 

And fairest fields of all the year, 

The mingled spoil were scattered here. 

The Lake, too, like a garden breathes. 

With the rich buds that o'er it lie, — 
As if a shower of fairy wreaths 

Had fallen upon it from the sky ! 
And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 
Of tabors and of dancing feet ; — 
The minaret-crier's chant of glee 
Sung from his lighted gallery,^ 
And answered by a ziraleet 
From neighboring Haram, wild and sweet ; — 
The merry laughter, echoing 
From gardens, where the silken swing ^ 
Wafts some delighted girl above 
The top leaves of the orange-grove ; 

1 " It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazeen to chant 
from the prallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is illumina- 
ted, and the women assembled at the house respond at intervals with a 
ziraleet or joyous chorus." — Russell. 

" The swing is a favorite pastime in the East, as promoting a circula- 
tion of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates." — Richardson. 

" The swmgs are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accompanierf 
unth music of voices and of instrumonte, hired by the masters o* the swingts.*- 
— Tlievenot. 



JJ44 LALLA ROOKH. 

Or, from those infant groups at play 
Among the tents ^ that hne the way, 
Fimging, unawed by slave or mothei, 
Handfuls of roses at each other. — 

Then, the sounds from the Lake, — the low whis- 
pering in boats, 
As they shoot through the moonlight ; — the dip- 
ping of oars, 
And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats 
Through the groves, round the islands, as if all 
the shores, -' 

Like those of Kathay, uttered music, and gave 
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.^ 
But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feeling, 
That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, — 
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power 
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 
O ! best of delights, as it every where is, 
To be near the loved One^ — what a rapture is his 
Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide 
O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that One by his 

side ! 
If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
Think, think what a Heaven she must make of Cash- 
mere ! 

1 " At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of 
•ents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, and girls, with 
music, dances," &:c. &c. — Herbert. 

' " An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having re- 
marked that a current of water made some of the stones near its banks send 
forth a sound, they detached some of them, and being charmed with the de- 
lightful sound they emitted, constructed King or musical instruments of 
them." — Grosier. 

This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the shore of Attica. 
" Huiiis littus, ait Capella, concentum musiciim illisis terras undis reddere 
quod propter tantam eruditionis vim puto dictum " — Lvdov. Voices i»» Axt- 
y^ustin de Civitat. Dei, lib. xviii. c R 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 245 

So felt the magiiificent Son of Acbar,^ 
When from power and pomp and the trophits of wax 
He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 
With the Light of the Haram, his young Nourmahal. 
Wlien free and uncrowned as the Conqueror roved 
By the banks of that Lake, with his only beloved, 
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch 
From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match, 
And preferred in his heart the least ringlet that curled 
Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. 

There's a beauty, forever unchangingly bright, 
Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day's light, 
Shming on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendor. 
This was not the beauty — O, nothing like this, 
That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss! 
But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
Like the light upon autumn's soft, shadowy days. 
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies 
From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes : 
Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, 
Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heaven in his dreams. 
When pensive, it seemed as if that very grace. 
That charm of all others, was born with her face ! 
\nd when angry. — for ev'n in the tranquilest climes 
Light breezes wfll ruflie the blossoms sometimes, — 
The short, passing anger but seemed to awaken 
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when 
shaken. 



• Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar. 

21* 



246 LALLA ROOKH. 

If tonderness touched her, the dark of her eye 
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, 
From the depth of whose shadow, Uke holy revealings 
From innermost shrines, came the hght of her feehngs. 
Then her mirth — O ! 'twas sportive as ever took wing 
From the heart with a burst, Uke the wild-bird in 

spring; 
Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages, 
Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages. ^ 
While her laugh, full of life, without any control 
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul 
And wliere it most sparkled no glance could discovfir. 
Ill lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over, — - 
Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon. 
When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. 
Such, such were the peerless enchantments, that gave 
NouRMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her slave : 
And though bright was his Haram, — a living parterre 
Of the flowers^ of this planet — though treasures were 

there, 
For which Soliman's self might have given all the 

store 
That the navy from Ophir e'er winged to his shore, 
Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all. 
And the Light of his Haram was young Nourmahal ! 

But where is she now, this night of joy, 
When bliss is every heart's employ? — 



1 In the wars of t!ie Dives with the Pens, whenever the fr.rmer took the 
alter prisoners, " tney shut them up in iron cages, and hung them on the 

oighest trees. Here they were visited by their companions, who brough 
»hem tlie choicest odors." — Richardson. 

2 In the Malay language the same word signifies women and flowers 



/^ 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 247 

When all around her is so bright, 

So like the visions of a trance, 

Thci.t one might think, who came by chance 

Into ths vale this happy night, 

He saw that City of Dehght ^ 

Tn Fairy-land, whose streets and towers 

Are made of gems and light and flowers ! 

Where is the loved Sultana? where, 

When mirth brings out the young and fair. 

Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, 

In melancholy stillness now ? 



Alas! — how light a cause may move 

Dissension between hearts that love ! 

Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 

And sorrow but more closely tied ; 

That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 

Yet in a sunny hour fail off", 

Like ships that have gone down at sea. 

When heaven was all tranquillity ! 

A something, light as air — a look, 

A word unkind or wrongly taken — 
O ! love, that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rash in 
To spread the breach that words begin , 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship's smiling day, 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said : 

• The cauital ofShadukiam See note, p. \^H 



248 LALLA ROOKH. 

Till fast declining, one by one, 
Tiie sweetnesses of love are 2:one, 
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds, — or like the stream, 
That smiling left the mountain's brow, 

As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 

Breaks nito floods, that part forever. 

O, you that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
As in the Fields of Bliss above 

He sits, with flowerets fettered round ; ^ — 
Loose not a tie that round him clings, 
IS'or ever let him use his wings ; 
For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight 
Will rob the plumes of half their light, 
Like that celestial bird, — whose nest 

Is found beneath far Eastern skies, — 
Whose wings, though radiant when at rest 

Lose all their glory when he flies ! ^ 

Some difl'erence, of this dangerous kind, — 
By which, though light, the links that bind 
The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; 
Some shadow in Love's summer heaven, 
Which, though a fleecy speck at first, 
May yet in awful thunder burst ; — 



' Sec the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely rouna 
with wreaths of flowers, in PicarVs Ceremonies Religieuses. 

* " Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinchj which sings S9 
Bielodiously that it is called the Celestial Bird. Its wings, wiien it is 
perclied, appear variegated with beautiful colors, but when it tlies they lose 
til their splendor." — (Jrosicr. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAAl, 241) 

Such cloud it is, liiat now hangs over 

The heart of the Imperial Lover, 

And far hath banished from his sight 

His NouRMAHAL, his Haram's Light! 

Hence is it, on this happy night, 

When Pleasure through the fields and groves 

Has let loose all her world of lov^es, 

And every heart has found its own, 

He wanders, joyless and alone. 

And Aveary as that bird of Thrace, 

Whose pinion knows no resting-place.^ 

In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes 
This Eden of the Earth supplies 

Come crowding round — the checks are pale. 
The eyes are dim : — though rich tiie spot 
With every flower this earth has got, 

What is it to the nightingale, 
If there his darling rose is not ? ^ 
In vain the Valley's smiling throng 
Worship him, as he moves along ; 
He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
Is worth a world of worshippers. 
They but the Star's adorers are. 
She is the Heaven that lights the St^"- ! 

Hence is it, too, that Nourmahal, 
Amid the luxuries of thi^* hour. 



' " As these birds on the Bosphorus are never knovsrn to rest, they ars 
Balled by the French ' les iimes d<ininees.' " — Dalloioay. 

2 " You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers be 
K)re the nitrhtintrale, yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more than 
Vlie sweet bieath of his beloved rose." — Jami. 



250 LALLA ROOKH. 

Far from the joyous festival, 

Sits in her own sequestered bower, 
With no one near, to soothe or aid, 
But that inspired and wondrous maid, 
Na^jouna, the Enchantress; — one. 
O'er whom his race the golden sun 
For unremembered years has run. 
Yet never saw her blooming brow 
Younger or fairer than 'tis now. 
Nay, rather, — as the west wind's sigh 
Freshens the flower it passes by. — 
Time's wing but seemed, in stealing o'er, 
To leave her lovelier than before. 
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, 
And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
Of other worlds, there came a light 
From her dark eyes so strangely bright, 
That all believed nor man nor earth 
Were conscious of Namouna's birth ! 

All spells and talismans she knew. 

From the great Mantra,^ which around 
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew. 

To the gold gems- of Afric, bound 
Upon the wandering Arab's arm. 
To keep him from the Siltim's^ harm. 
And she had pledged her powerful art, — 
Pledged it with all the zeal and heart 



" He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or talisman, througfc 
r )^ich he ruled over the elements and spirits of all denominations." — 
WUford. 

'- " The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Henrz 
Trom the supposed charm they contain." — Jackson. 

3 " A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c., in a human shape." — i?JcA 
ardson. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 251 

Of one who knew, though high her sphere, 
What 'twas to lose a love so dear, — 
To find some spell that should recall 
Her Selini's ^ smile to Nouriviahal ! 

'Twas midnight — through the lattice, wreathed 

With woodbine, many a perfume breathed 

From plants that wake when others sleep, 

From timid jasmine bads, that keep 

Their odor to themselves all day, 

But, when the sun-light dies away, 

Let the delicious secret out 

To every breeze that roams about ; — 

When thus Namouna: — "'Tis the hour 

" That scatters spells on herb and flower, 

" And garlands might be gathered now, 

•' That, twined around the sleeper's brow, 

" Would make him dream of such delights, 

*' Such miracles and dazzling sights, 

*' As Genii of the Sun behold, 

" At evening, from their tents of gold 

*' Upon the' horizon — where they play 

*' Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 

" Their sunny mansions melt away. 

*' Now, too, a chaplet might be wreathed 

" Of buds o'er which the moon has breathed, 

" Which worn by her, whose love has strayed, 

" Might bring some Peri from the skies, 
"Some sprite, whose very soul is made 

" Of flowerets' breaths and lovers' sighs, 

' The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the throne. 



252 LALLAROOKH 



^'Aiii wlio might tell 



'' For me. for me," 
Cried Nourmahal impatiently, — 
"O! twine that wreath for me to-niglit.'' 
Then, rapidly, with foot as light 
As the young musk-roe's, out she flew, 
To cull each shining leaf that grew 
Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams, 
For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. 
Anemones and Seas of Gold,^ 

And new-blown lilies of the river, 
And those sweet flowerets, that unfold 

Their buds on Camadeva's quiver;^ — 
The tube-rose, with her silvery light, 

That in the Gardens of Malay 
Is called the Mistress of the Night, ^ 
So like a bride, scented and bright. 

She comes out when the sun's away ; — 
Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
That wander through Zamara's shades:"^ — 
And the white moon-flower, as it shows, 
On Serendib's high crags, to those 
Who near the isle at evening sail. 
Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; 



' " Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brishtest golc 
color." — Sn \V. Jones. 

2 a fhi ■ tree (the Ts^agacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, ana 
the delicious odor of its blossoms justly gives them a place in th« ouiver of 
Camadeva, or the God of Love.'' — Id. 

^ " The Malavans style the tube-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) Sandau 
Malam, or the Alistress of the Night." — Pennant. 

* The people of the Batta country in Sumatra, (of which Zamara is one 
of the ancient names,) " when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive 
life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands ot 
flowers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the country, mostly 
orevails.'' • - Marsden. 



pr* 




" Out she flew 
To cull each shining leaf that grew." 

Page 252. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM . 

In short all flowerets aiid all plants. 

From the divine Amrita tree/ 
That blesses heaven's inhabitants 

With fruits of immortality, 
Down to the basil tuft,"^ that waves. 
Its fragrant blossom over graves, 

And to the hnmblo rosemary, 
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
To scent the desert ^ and the dead — 
All in that garden bloom, and all 
Are gathered by yoiuig Nourmahal, 
Who heaps her baskets with the flowors 

And leaves, till they can hold no more* 
Then to Namouna flies, and showers 

Upon her lap the shining store. 
With what delight the' Enchantress views 
So many buds, bathed with the dews 
And beams of that bless'd hour ! — her glanco 

Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, 
As, in a kind of holy trance, 

She hung above those fragrant treasures, 
Bending to drink their balmy airs, 
As if she mixed her soul with theirs. 
And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
From flowers and scented flame, that fed 



1 '-The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu or rose-apple) is called 
Amnta, or immortal, and the mytholog^ists of Tibet apply the same word to 
1 celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit." — Sir \V. Jones. 

2 Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in church- 
yards. 

" The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and 
weep at the sepulchres of the dead; and the custom then is to throw upon 
the tombs a sort of herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is qui 
BWeet basil " — Maillet. Lett. 10. 

* "In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary." 
— A si at. Res. 



254 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her charmed Jife — for none had e'er 
Beheld her taste of mortal fare. 
Nor ever in aught earthly dip, 
But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. 
Filled with the cool, inspiring smell, 
The' Enchantress now begins her spell, 
Thus singnig as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves : — 



I know where the winged visions dwell 

Thai around the night-bed play ; 
I know each herb and floweret's bell. 
Where they hide their wings by day. 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid; 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The image of love, that nightly flies 

To visit the bashful maid, 
Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs 

Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
The dream of a future, happier hour, 

That alights on misery's brow, 
Springs out of the silvery almond-flower, 

That blooms on a leafless bough. ^ 
Then hasten we, maid. 
To twine our braid ; 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 



* "The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the baire branches 
- Unsselquist. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 255 

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 

The glitter of mines unfold, 
Inhabit the mountain-herb,^ that dyes 

The tooth of the fawn like gold. 
The phantom shapes — O touch not them — 

That appall the murderer's sight, 
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem, 

That shrieks, when plucked at nighi ! 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid; 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The dream of the injured, patient mind, 

That smiles at the wrongs of men. 
Is found in the bruised and wounded rind 
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid; 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fado 



No sooner was the flowery crown 

Placed on her head, than sleep came down, 



• An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow, 
go den hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it. 

Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchym.sts look 
to as a means of making gold. '' Most of those alcbymical enthusiasta 
think themselves sure of success, if they could but find out the herb, which 
gilds the teeth and gives a yellow color to the flesh of the sheep that eat it. 
Even the oil of this plant must be of a golden color. It is called Hascliis- 
chat ed dab." 

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the goats at 
Mount Libanus are of a silver color ; and adds, '' this confirms me th'at 
which I observed in Candia ; to wit, that the animals that live on Mount 
ida eat a certain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden color; which, 
.iccording to my judgment, cannot otherwise proceed than from the mine? 
which ore under ground." — Dandini, Voyage to Mount Libanus. 



25C) LALLA ROOKH. 

Gently as nights of summer fall. 

I -pon the hds of Nourmahal : — 

And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze. 

As full of small, rich harmonies 

As ever wind, that o'er the tents 

Of AzAB 1 blew, was full of scents. 

Steals on her ear, and floats and swells, 

Like the first air of morning creeping 
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells. 

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping , 
And now a Spirit formed, 'twould seem, 

Of music and of light, — so fair, 
So brilliantly his features beam. 

And such a sound is in the air 
Of sweetness when he waves his wings, 
Hovers around her, and thus sings : — 



From Chindara's ^ warbling fount I come, 

Called by that moonlight garland's spell ; 
From Chindara's fount, my fairy home. 

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell. 
Where lutes in the air are heard about. 

And voices are singing the whole day lon*^, 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 

Is turned, as it leaves the lips, to song ! 



' The myrrh country. 

* " This idea (of deities living: m shells) was not unkno%vn to the Greeks 
<srho represent the young IS'erites, one of the Cupids, as living iu shells or 
the F-hnres of the Red Sea." — W^ilford. 

3 " A fabulous fountain, where instruments aie said to be constantly pla* 
ina.' — Ridiardson. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 257 

Hither I come 

From my fairy home, 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 

I swear by the breath 

Of that moonhght wreath, 
Thy Lever shall sigh at thy feet again. 

For mine is the lay that lightly floats. 
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 
That fall as soft as snow on the sea. 
And melt in the heart as instantly: — 
And the passionate strain that, deeply going 

Refines the bosom it trembles throusfh, 
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing. 

Ruffles the wave, bat sweetens it too. 

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 

The Spirits of past Delight obey; — 

Let but the tuneful talisman sound. 

And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 

And mine is the gentle song that bears. 

From soul to soul, the wishes of love, 
As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 

The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove. ^ 



'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, and future of pleasure ; 



2 



1 " The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of 
the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of tiiis valuable 
tree." — See Brown's Illustr. Tab. 19. 

•^ " Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, it is a per- 
ception of a complicated nature, made up of a sensation of the present 
sound or note, and an idea or remembrance of the foregoing, while their 
iiiixture and concurrence p'oduce such a mvsterious delight, as neither 
could have produced alone. And it is often heightened by an anucipition 

22* 



258 LALLA RC/OKH. 

Wlien Memory links the tone that is gone 
With the b]_ssful tone that's still in the sar, 

And Hope from a heavenly note flies on 
To a note more heavenly still thdt is near. 

The warrior's heart, when touched by me, 
Can as downy soft and as yielding be 
As his own white plume, that high amid death 
Through the field has shone — yet moves with a bres.th 
And, O, how the eyes of Beauty glisten. 

When Music has reached her inward soul, 
Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
While Heaven's eternal melodies roll ! 
So, hither I come 
From my fairy home, 
And if there's a magic in Music's stram, 
I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 



'Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn. 
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn, ^ 



of the succeeding notes. Thus Sense. Memory, and Imagination, are con 
junctively employed." — Gerrard on Taste. 

This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as explained by Cicero: 
— " Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum prcPsentem sentiret voluptatem : 
ftnimum et prfesentem percipere pariter cum corpore et prospicere venien- 
tem, nee prreti^ritam prseterfluere sinere." 

Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for the gratification 
we derive from rhyme : — " Elle est I'image de Tesperance et du souvenir. 
Un son nous fait desirer celui qui doit lui repondre, et quand le second re- 
tentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous echapper.'' 

• " The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim and the Soobhi 
Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. They account for this phenomenon 
m a most whimsical manner. They say that as the sun rises from behind 
Ibe Kohl Qaf, (Mount Caucasus,) it passes a hole perforated through thai 

4 - 
•» 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 259 

As if the morn had waked, and then 
Shut close her hds of Hght again. 
And NouRMAHAL is up, and trying 

The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
O bUss ! — now murmur like the sighing 

From that ambrosial Spirit's wmgs. 
And then, her voice — 'tis more than human — 

Never, till now, had it been given 
To lips of any mortal woman 

To utter notes so fresh from heaven ; 
Sweet as the breath of angel sighs, 

When angel sighs are most divine. — 
*'0! let it last till night," she cries, 

''And he is more than ever mine." 
And hourly she renews the lay, 

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
Should, ere the evening, fade away, — 

For things so heavenly have such fleetness! 
But, far from fading, it but grows 
Richer, diviner as it flows : 
Till rapt she dwells on every strnig, 

And pours again each sound along, 
Like Echo, lost and languishing, 

In, love with her own wondrous sons:. 

That evening, (trustnig that his soul 
Might be from haunting love released 



mountain, and tliat darting its rays through it, it is the causo of the Soobhi 
Kazim. or this temporary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth 
i8 again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain, and 
brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning." — Scott V\air,g. He 
thinks Milton may allude to this, when he says, — 

" Kre the blabbing Eastern scout, 
The nice morn on tlie Indian steep 
From her cabined loop-hole peep." 



260 LALLA ROOKU. 

By mirtli, by music, and the bowl,) 

The' Imperial Selim held a feast 
In his magnificent Shalimar ; ^ — 
In whose Saloons, when the first star 
Of evening o'er the waters trembled, 
The Valley's loveliest all assembled ; 
All the bright creatures that, like dreams, 
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
Of beauty from its founts and streams ; ^ 
And all those wandermg minstrel-maids, 
Who leave — how can they leave ? — the shades 
Of that dear Valley, and are found 

Singing in gardens of the South '^ 
Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound 

As from a young Cashmerian's mouth. 

There, too, the Haram's inmates smile: — 
Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair. 



' " In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the 
Delhi Emperors, 1 believe Shah Jehan, constructed a spacious garden callea 
the Shalimar, which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering 
shrubs. Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into a 
canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through its centre, or occasion- 
ally thrown into a variety of water-works, compose the chief beauty of the 
Shalimar. To decorate this spot the Mogul Princes of India have displayed 
an equal magnificence and taste ; especially Jehan Gheer. who, with the 
enchanting Noor Mahl, made Kashmire his usual residence during the 
summer months. On arches thrown over the canal are erected, at equal 
distances, four or five suites of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, 
with four rooms at the angles, where the followers of the court attend, and 
the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the hookah. The frame of the 
doors of the principal saloon is composed of pieces of a stone of a black 
color, streaked with yellow lines, and of a closer grain and higher polish 
than porphyry. They were taken, it is said, from a Hindoo temple, by one 
of the Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great value." — Forster. 

2 " The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being sup 
-•osed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them.'' — 
Ali Yezdi. 

" I-'rom him 1 received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the 
lotes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those sing- 
ing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that delightful valley over the 
circus parts of India." — Persian Miscellanies. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HVRAM. 201 

And from the Garden of the Nile, 

Dehcate as the roses there ;^ — 
Daughters of Love from Cyprus' rocks, 
With Paphian diamonds in their locks ; ^ — 
Light Peri forms, such as there are 
On the gold meads of Candahar;^ 
And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 

In their own bright Kathaian bowers, 
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies. 

That they might fancy the rich flowers, 
That round them in the sun lay sighing, 
Had been by magic all set flying. "* 

Every thing young, every thing fair 
From East and West is blushing there. 
Except — except — O, Nourmahal ! 
Thou loveliest, dearest of them all. 
The one, whose smile shone out alone, 
Amidst a world the only one; 
Whose light, among so many lights, 
Was like that star, on starry nights, 
The seaman singles from the sky. 
To steer his bark forever by ! 
Thou v/ert not there — so Selim tnought. 
And every thing seemed drear without thee ; 

'' '-The roses of the Jinan iXile, or Garden of the ]\ile. (attached to ihtj 
timperor of Marocco's palace,) are unequalled, and mattresses are made of 
their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon." — Jackson. 

2 " On tj»e side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which pro- 
duces the most beautiful n^ck-crystal. On account of its brilliancy it has 
been called the Paphian diamond." — Mariti. 

3 " There is a part of Candahar, called Peria. or Fairy Liand." — Theve- 
not. In some of those countries to the north of India vegetable gold i." 
Buppos( d to be produced. 

* " '1 liese are the butterflies which are called in the Chinese languai^e 
Flyinar joaves. Some of them have such shining colors, and are so varia 
gated, that they may be called flying flowers ; and indeed they are alwavs 
foduced in the iinesf flowcr-pa'dens." — Dunn. 



262 LA.LLA ROOK 11. 

But, ah! thou wert, thou wert, — ar J brought 

Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
Mingling unnoticed with a band 
Of lutanists from many a land, 
And veiled by such a mask as shades 
The features of young Arab maids, ^ — 
A mask that leaves but one eye free, 
To do its best in witchery, — 
She roved, with beating heart, around, 

And waited, trembling, for the minute, 
When she might try if still the sound 
Of her loved lute had magic in it. 

The board was spread with fruits and wine; 
With grapes of gold, like those that shine 
On Casein's hills ; ^ — pomegranates full 

Of melting sweetness, and the pears, 
And sunniest apples,^ that Caubul, 

In all its thousand gardens,"* bears ; — 
Plantains, the golden and the green, 
Malaya's nectared mangusteen ; ^ 
Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts 

Fiom the far groves of Samarcand, 
iVnd Basra dates, and apricots, 

Seed of the Sun,^ from Iran's land; — 

1 " The Arabian women wear black masks with little clasps prettily 
ordered." — Carreri. Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in con 
versation. 

* "The golden grapes of Casbm." — Description of Persia. 

3 "The fruits exported fiom Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates/' 
&c. — Elphinstone. 

< " We sat down under r tree, listened to the birds, and talked with the 
son of our Mehmaundar about our country and Caubul, of which he gave 
an enchanting account; that city and its 100,000 gardens," &c. — Id. 

° " The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world ; the pride of 
the Malay islands." — Marsden. 

8 " A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tofcm ek shems 
signifying sun'e seed - Description of 1 ersia. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 263 

With rich conserve of Visna cherries,^ 
Of orange flowers, and of those berries 
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
Feed on in Erac's rocky dells.^ 
All these in richest vases smile, 

In baskets of pure santal-wood, 
And urns of porcelain from that isle,^ 

Sunk underneath the Indian flood, 
Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
Vases to grace the halls of kings. 
Wines, too, of every clime and hue. 
Around their liquid lustre threw; — 
Amber RosoUi,'' — the bright dew 
From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing,^ — 
And Shiraz wine, that richly ran 

As if that jewel, large and rare, 
The ruby for which Kublai-Khan 
Off"ered a city's wealth,^ was blushmg 

Melted within the goblets there ! 

And amply Selim quafl's of each, 
And seems resolved the flood shall reach 
His inward heart, — shedding around 
A genial deluge, as they run. 



* •' Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consistinjr of rose-leaves in conseri^e, 
with lemon of Visna cherry, orange flowers," &.c. — Rtissell. 

2 "Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac.'' — The Moallakat, 
Poem of Tarafa. 

3 " Mauri-ga-Sima. an island near Formosa, supposed to have been sunk 
in the sea for the crimes of iis inhabitants. The vessels which the fisher- 
men and divers bring up from it are sold at an immense price m China and 
Japan. — See Kempfer. 

* Persian Tales. 

* The white wine of Kishma 

•' " The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest nibv that was ever 
aeen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered the value of a city for it, but the 
Kmg Tfiswered he would not give it for the treasure of the world." — 
Marco Polo. 



2{yA LALI.A ROOKH. 

Tliat soon shall leav^e no spot undrowiied.^ 

For Lo\'e to lest his wnigs upon. 
He little knew how well the boy 

Can float upon a goblet's streams, 
Lighting them with his smile of joy;- — 

As bards have seen him in their dreaii.s^ 
Down the blue Ganges laughing glide 

Upon a rosy lotus wreath/ 
Catchmg new Justre from tlie tide 

That with his image shone beneath. 

But what are cups, without the aid 

Of song to speed them as they flow ? 
And see — a lovely Georgian maid, 

With all the bloom, the freshened glow 
Of her own country maidens' looks, 
When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks,^ 
And with an eye, whose restless ray, 

Full, floating, dark — O, he, who knows 
His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray 

To guard him from such eyes as those ! — 
With a voluptuous wildness flings 
Her snowy hand across the strings 
Of a syrinda,^ and thus sings : — 



Con.e hither, come hither ; by night and by day, 
We linger in pleasures that never are gone ; 



' The Indians feisrn that Cupid was first seen floating down the Giagea 
on the Xymphrea Xelumbo — See Pennant. 
2 Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths. — See Ebn Haukai 
' 'The Indian Syrinda, t- guitar." — Symez. 



THE LIGHT CF THE HARAM. 266 

Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away, 
Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 

And the love that is o'er, m expiring, gives birth 
To a new one as warm, as unequalled in bliss ; 

And, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this.^ 

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh 
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee j ^ 

And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,^ 
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 

O ! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth 
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss, 

Aiid own, if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is this, it is this. 

Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallowed by love, 
Could draw down those angels of old from their 
sphere, 
Who for wine of this earth ^ left the fountains above. 
And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we have here. 
And, blessed with the odor our goblet gives forth. 
What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ? 
Far, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 
It is this, it is this. 



' " Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs {i ouildiiiEr of Shah Allum's| 
in the cornire are the following lines, in letters of jrold upon a ground o\ 
wliite marble — ' If there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this.' " — 
Fra7iklin. 

- " lelightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain-tops, 
while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil." — So?ig of Jaya^ 
deva. 

3 '' The Tsisan, or drops of spring rain, which they believe to produce 
pearls if they fall into shells." — Richardson. 

* for an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the angels, 
iee Mariti 



V 



2f'S LALLA ROOKH. 

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute, 

When the same measure, sound for sound, 
Was caught up by another lute, 

And so divinely breathed around, 
That all stood hushed and wondernig, 

And turned and looked into the air, 
As if they thought to see the wing 

Of IsRAFiL,^ the Angel, there ; — 
So powerfully on every soul 
That new, enchanted measure stole. 
While now a voice, sweet as the note 
Of the charmed hite, was heard to float 
Along its chords, and so entwine 

Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whethei 
The voice or lute was most divine. 

So wondrously they went together : — 



There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told 
When two, that are linked in one heavenly ti' , 

With heart never changnig, and brow never cold. 
Love on through all ills, and love on till they d, j 

One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

W^hole a2:es of heartless and wandering bliss : 

And, O ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 



'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words, 
But that deep magic m the chords 

* The Angel of Music. See note, p. 22U. 



THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 2C7 

And in the lips, that gave such power 
As Music knew not till that hour. 
At once a hundred voices said, 
'•It is the masked Arabian maid ! '^ 
While Selim, who had felt the strain 
Deepest of any, and had lain 
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance, 

After the fairy sounds were o'er; 
Too inly touched for utterance. 

Now motioned with his hand for more — 



Fly to the desert, fly with me: 

Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; 

But, O ! the choice what heart can doubt, 

Of tents with love, or thrones without ? 

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The' acacia waves her yellow hair, 
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

Our sands are bare, but down their slope 

The silvery-footed antelope 

As gracefully and gayly springs 

As o'er the marble courts of kings. 

Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
The loved and lone acacia-tree, 
The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 



?(>y LALLA ROOKH. 



O ! therfi are looks and tones thai dart 
An instant sunshine through tlie heart, — 
As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through life had sought ; — 



As if the very h'ps and eyes, 
Predestined to have all our sighs, 
And never fee forgot again, 
Sparkled and spoke before us then ! 



So came thy every glance and tone, 
When first on me they breathed and shone , 
New, as if brought from other spheres, 
Yet welcome as if loved for years. 

Then fly with me, — if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 
Fresh as the fountain under ground. 
When first 'tis by the lapwing found.^ 

But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipped image from its base. 
To give to me the ruined place ; — 



• The Hudhud. or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovcr'ng 
'^ter iindei ground 



THE IIGHT OF THE HARAM. 2Gi« 

Then, fare thee well — I'd mther make 
My bower upon some icy lake 
When thawing suns begin to shine, 
Than trust to love so false as thine ! 



There was a pathos in this lay, 

That, ev'n without enchantment's art, 
Would instantly have found its way 

Deep into Selim's burning heart ; 
But, breathing, as it did, a tone 
To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; 
With every chord fresh from the touch 
Of Music's Spirit, — 'twas too much! 
Starting, he dashed away the cup, — 

Which, all the time of this sweet air, 
His hand had held, untasted, up. 

As if 'twere fixed by magic there, — 
And, naming her, so long unnamed, 
So long miseen, wildly exclaimed, 
"O Nourmahal! O Xourmahal ! 

'' Hadst thou but sung this witching strain 
"I could forget — forgive thee all, 

" And never leave those eyes again." 

The mask is off — the charm is wrought — 
And Selim to his heart has caught, 
In blushes more than ever bright. 
His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light ! 
And well do vanish 3d frowns enhance 
The charm of every brightened glance ; 
'23* 



270 LALLA ROOKH. 

And dearer seems each dawning smile 
For having lost 'its Ught awhile : 
And, happier now for all her sighs, 

As on his arm her head reposes, 
Slie whispers him, with laughing eyes, 

*' Remember, love, the Feast of Rosos ! " 



LALLA ROOKH. 271 



Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this Hght rlinp- 
sody, took occasion to sum up his opinion of ihti 
young Cashmerian's poetry, ^^ — of which, he tnisied, 
they had that evening heard the last. Having re- 
capitulated the epithets "frivolous" — "inharmo- 
nious" — "nonsensical," he proceeded to say that, 
viewing it in the most favorable light, it resembled 
one of those Maldivian boats, to which the Princesi; 
had alluded in the relation of her dream, ^ — a sligfit 
gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, 
and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded tiow- 
ers on board. The profusion, indeed, of tlowt-rs and 
birds, which this Poet had ready on all occasions, 
— not to mention dews, gems, <fcc., — was a most op- 
pressive kind of opulence to his hearers ; and had 
the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter 
of the flower-garden without its method, and all the 
flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to 
this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always most 
inspired by the worst parts of them. The charms 
of paganism, the merits of rebellion, — these were 
the themes honored with his particular enthusiasm ; 
and, in the poem just recited, one of his most pala- 
table passages was in praise of that beverage of the 
Unfaithful, wine; — "being, perhaps," said he, re- 
laxing into a smile, as conscious of his own character 
in the Haram on this point, " one of tliose baids, 
whose fancy owes all its illumination to the grape, 
like that painted porcelain,^ so curious and so rare, 



» Seep. 187. 

• " The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides of porci 
aio ▼essela tiah and otlier animals, which were oh> oerceptible whun tb* 



27*2 LALLA ROOKH. 

wliose images are only visible whe liquor is poiireJ 
into It." lJ[>oii the whole, it was liis opinion, from 
the specimens which they had heard, and which, he 
begged to say, were the most tiresome part of the 
journey, that — whatever other merits this well- 
dressed young gentleman might possess — poetry was 
by no means his proper avocation: "and indeed," 
concluded the critic, "from his fondness for flowers 
and for birds. I would venture to suggest that a florist 
or a bird-catcher is a much more suitable calling for 
\ni}l than a poet." 

They had now begun to ascend those barren 
mountains which separate Cashmere from the rest of 
India; and, as the heats were intolerable, and the 
time of their encampments limited to the few hours 
necessary for refreshment and repose, there was an 
end to all their delightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh 
saw no more of Peramorz. She now felt that her 
short dream of happiness Vv^as over, and that she had 
nothing but the recollection of its few blissful hours, 
like the one draught of sweet water that serves the 
• camel a,cross the wilderness, to be her heart's refresh- 
j ment during the dreary waste of life that w^as before 
t her. The blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon 
Ibund its way to her cheek, and her ladies saw with 
regret — though not without some suspicion of the 
cause — that the beauty of their mistress, of which 
they were almost as proud as of their own, was fast 
vanishing away at the very moment of all when she 
had most need of it. What must the King of Bucha- 
ria feel, wdieii, instead of the lively and beautiful 



Tessel was full of some liquor. They call this species Kia-tsin, tlot if. 
azttre is jnit in press, on account of the manner in which the azure is laid 
on.'' — "They are every now and then trying to recover the art of thi^ 
ttiagical painting, but to no purpose." — Dunn. 



LALLA ROOKH. 271$ 

Lai la Rookh, whom the poets of Delhi na*l de- 
scribed as more perfect than the divinest images jIi the 
house of Azor,^ he should receive a pale and inani- 
mate victim, upon whose cheek neither health nor 
pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had fled, 
— to hide himself in her heart ? 

If any thing could have charmed away the melan- 
choly of her spirits, it would have been the fresh airs 
and enchanting scenery of that Valley, which the 
Persians so justly called the Unequalled.''^ Bnt nei- 
ther the coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious aftc;r 
toiling up those bare and burning mountains, — 
neither the splendor of the minarets and pagodas, 
that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the 
grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains,^ which 
make every spot of that region holy ground, — neither 
tlie countless waterfalls, that rush into the Valley 
from all those high and romantic mountains that 
encircle it, nor the fair city <Bn the Lake, wh®se 
houses, r®0fed with flowers,"* aj)peared at a distance 



' An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be fatlier to Abraham. 
" 1 have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in the house of Azor."' 
— Hajiz. 

2 Kachmire be Nazeer. — Forster. 

3 " The pardonable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants has multi- 
plied the places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beschan, and of Brama. Ail 
Cashmere is holy land, and miraculous fountains abound." — Major Reiviel's 
Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan. 

Jehanguire mentions " a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, which sig- 
nifies a snake ; probably because some large snake had formerly been seen 
there." — " During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, 
which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmere. 'J'he vestiges of 
places of worsiiip and sanctity are to be traced without number amongst the 
ruins and the caves, which are interspersed in its neighborhood." — Tooztk 
Jehan^cry. — v. Asiat. iML'iC. vol. ii. 

There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Kazil, the author of the 
Ayin-Acbaree, '• who," says Major Reniul, " appears to have caught sr)me 
of the enthusiasm of the valley, by his description of the holy places 
in it ' 

* " On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, which 
anelters the building from the great quantity of snow that falls in the winter 
season This fence communicates an equal warm Ih in winter, as a refresh 



274 LALLA ROOKH. 

like one vast and variegated parterre ; — not alu these 
wonders and glories of the most lovely country un- 
der the sun could steal her heart for a minute from 
those sad thoughts, which but darkened and grew 
bitterer every step she advanced. 

The gay pomps and processions that met her upon 
her entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence 
with which the roads all along were decorated, did 
honor to the taste and gallantry of the young King. 
It was night when they approached the city, and, for 
the last two miles, they had passed under arches, 
thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with only 
those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more 
])tecioiis than gold, is distilled, and illuminated in 
rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the triple- 
colored tortoise-shell of Pegu.^ Sometimes, from a 
dark wood by the side of the road, a display of fire- 
works would break out, so sudden and so brilliant, 
that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that grove, in 
whose pnrple shade the God of Battles was born, 
bnrsting into a flame at the moment of his birth; — 
while, at other times, a quick and playful irradiation 
continued to brighten all the fields and gardens by 
which they passed, forming a line of dancing lights 
along the horizon ; like the meteors of the north as 
they are seen by those hunters,^ who pursue the 
white and blue foxes on the confines of the ley Sea. 

These arches and fire-works delighted the Ladies 



ing coolness in the summer season, v/hen the tops of the houses, which are 
planted with a variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance the spacious view of 
a beautifully checkered parterre." — Fnrster. 

• " Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other office than to hunt 
the woods and marshes for triple-colored tortoises for the King's \'ivary 
Of the shells of these also la:\terns are made." — Vintent le Blanc's T-aveis. 

2 for a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to these hunters 
V E'ncuclovcBdia. 



LALLA ROOKH» 276 

of the Princess exceedingly ; and, uath their usual 
good logic, they deduced from his taste for illumina- 
tions, tliat the King of Bucharia would make the 
most exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, 
could Lalla Rookh herself help feeling the kindness 
and splendor with which the young bridegroom 
welcomed her; — but she also felt how painful is the 
gratitude, which kindness from those we cannot love 
excites ; and that their best blandishments come over 
the heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness, 
which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind^ 
that is to blow over this earth in the last days. 

The marriage was fixed for the morning after her 
arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be presented 
to the monarch in that Imperial Palace beyond the 
lake, called the Shalimar. Though never before had 
a night of more wakeful and anxious thought been 
passed in the Happy Yalley, yet, when she rose in 
the morning, and her Ladies came around her, to as- 
sist in the adjustment of the bridal orname-its, they 
thonght they had never seen her look half so beauti- 
ful. What she had lost of the bloom and radiancy of 
her charms was more than made up by that intel- 
lectual expression, that soul beaming forth from the 
eyes, which is worth all the rest of loveliness. When 
they had tinged her fingers with the Henna leaf, and 
placed upon her brow a small coronet of jcAvels, of 
the shape worn by the ancient Queens of Bucharia, 
they flung over her head the rose-colored bridal veil, 
and she proceeded to the barge that was to convey 
her across the lake; — first kissing, with a mournfiil 

' This wind, which is to blow froin Syria Dnmascena, is, according to the 
Mihometans, one of the signs of the Last Day's approach. 

Another of the signs is, " Great distress in the world, so that a man when 
he passes bv another's arave shall say, Would to God i were in his place ! ' 
— Side's Preliminary Discourse 



276 LALLA ROOKH. 

look, the little amulet of cornelian, which her fathei 
at parting had hung about her neck. 

The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid ol 
whose nuptials it rose, and the shining lake, all cov- 
ered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the shores 
of the islands, and the crowded summer-houses on 
the green hills around, with shawls and banners wa- 
ving from their roofs, presented such a picture of ani- 
mated rejoicing, as only she, who was the object of 
It all, did not feel with transport. To Lalla Rookh 
alone it was a melancholy pageant ; nor could she 
have even borne to look upon the scene, were it net 
for a hope that, among the crowds around, she might 
once more perhaps catch a glimpse of Feramorz. So 
much was her imagination haunted by this thought, 
that there was scarcely an islet or boat she passed on 
the way, at which her heart did not flutter with the 
momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in her 
eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light of his 
dear looks fell ! — In the barge immediately after the 
Princess sat Fadladeen, with his silken curtains 
thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit 
of his august presence, and with his head full of the 
speech he was to deliver to the King, "concerning 
Feramorz, and literature, and the Chabuk, as con- 
nected therewith." 

They now had entered the canal which leads from 
the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the 
Shalimar, and went gliding on through the gardens 
that ascended from each bank, full of flowering shrubs 
that made the air all perfume ; while from the middle 
of the canal rose jets of water, smooth and unbroJvcn, 
to such a dazzling height, that they stood like tall 
pilars of diamond in the sunshine. After saiHng 
under the arches of various saloons, they at length 



LALLA KUOKH. 277 

arrived at the last arid most magnificent, wi.ere the 
monarch awaited the coming of his bride; and such 
was the agitation of her heart and frame, that it was 
with difficnUy she could walk up the marble steps, 
Avliich were covered with cloth of gold for her ascent 
from the barge. At the end of the hall stood two 
thrones, as precious as the Cerulean Throne of Cool- 
burga,^ on one of which sat Aliris, the youthful 
King of Bucharia, and on the other was, in a few 
minutes, to be placed the most beautiful Princess in 
tlie world. Immediately upon the entrance of Lalla 
RooKH into the saloon, the monarch descended from 
his throne to meet her: but scarcely had he time to 
take her hand in his, when she screamed with sur- 
prise, and fiiinted at his feet. It was Feramorz him- 
self that stood before her ! — Feramorz was, himself, 
the Sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had 
accompanied his young bride from Delhi, and, having 
won her love as an humble minstrel, now amply de- 
served to enjoy it as a King. 

The consternation of Fadladeex at this discovery 
was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But change 
of opinion is a resource too convenient in courts for 
this experienced courtier not to have learned to avail 
himself of it. His criticisms were all, of course, 
recanted instantly ; he was seized with an admiration 

' " On Mihommed Shaw's return to Koolburga, (the capita', of Dekkan,) 
he m\de a trreit festival, and mounted this throne with much pomp and 
magiiificeni e, calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. 1 have heard some old per- 
sons, who s iw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Bhamenee, 
describe it. They say that it was in length nine feet, and three in breadth ; 
male of ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious 
stones of immense value. Every prince of the house of Bhamenee, who 
possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it some rich stones ; so that 
when, in the reign of Sultan Mamood, it was taken to pieces, to remove 
sopie of the jewels to be set in vases and cups, the jewellers valued it at 
^ne cnrore of oons, (nearly four millions sterling.) I learned also that it 
A-as Ccdlrd Firozeh from beir.g partly enamelled of a sky-blue color, whict 
vas in 'iaie totally concealed by the number of jewels " — Fi ishta 

24 



^^Kcfr-^W <5^i^ 



S?S LALLA ROORH. 

of the King's v^erses, as unbounded as, he begged hhii 
to believe, it was disinterested ; and the following 
week saw him in possession of an additional place, 
swearing by all the Saints of Tslam that never had 
there existed so great a poet as the Monarch Aliris, 
and, moreover, ready to prescribe his favorite regi- 
men of the Chabuk for every man, woman, and child^ 
that dared to think otherwise. 

Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bu- 
charia, after such a beginning, there can be but little 
doubt ; and, among the lesser symptoms, it is re- 
corded of Lalla RooKH, that, to the day of her death, 
in memory of their delightful journey, she nevei 
called the King by any other name than Feramorz. 



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